The Corsair Saga I: The Steward
by twentyitalians
Summary: Joining the Systems Alliance at age 16 after the Skyllian Blitz, Deckard Russell realizes that the military isn't all fun and heroics. Follow Deckard from his first days at boot camp, on his first naval posting, and the realization that, in a galaxy without Paragons, the Corsairs may be humanity's best hope. Set in Katkiller-V's AR Universe.
1. Prologue: Echo Squad

**I don't own Mass Effect. I am not EA or BioWare.**

* * *

 _Hi there! Thanks for stopping by a reading. The Steward is part of the Corsair Saga, which are both placed within Katkiller-V's Another Realm Universe and proceeds with his blessing. Thank you for reading (again) and thanks Katkiller-V for allowing me to open up some room here in your ARU._

* * *

Prologue

 _09-13-2176_

 _Providence Base - SA, Providence, Rhode Island, United North American States, Earth_

* * *

An overcast sky was doing wonders to drop the temperature across the grounds of Providence Base. Every now and then a breeze would blow in trace smells from Narragansett Bay though those were quite muted thanks to the abundance of trees surrounding the base. For most of the System Alliance personnel at Providence Base, it was really a pleasant, autumn day.

Except for the fact that Deckard Russell was currently receiving yet another concentrated fusillade from his recruitment class drill instructor.

"-told you maggots just twenty minutes ago I would personally be inspecting each and every one of your canteen's, did I not A1 Russell!?"

"Of course you did, Gunny!" Deckard blurted out as had been drilled into him the first day, nigh, the first hour since he had arrived by bus with the rest of his fellow A1's just three days ago. The 30 recruits were A1's, the lowest of the lows in the Systems Alliance military structure. They were young, dumb, and full of...ambition. The clay that had yet to be molded into something the SA could actually use against the rest of the galaxy. But Deckard Russell had wanted this life, far better than the life he was living back in Fredericksburg, Virginia. That's what his 16 year old brain told him at lea-

"Goddammit Russell!" Gunnery Chief Mark Matthews' explosion snapped him out of his thoughts. "What the hell are you doing?! Just wandering around in your head thinking of your mama's farm while you prance through the fields with a goddamn unicorn?"

"No, Gunny!" _Unicorn?_

"Then drop and give me 25!"

Deckard jerked his head in a nod and began to do the necessary amount of pushups as Gunny moved on to the next recruit in his squad. As he was halfway through his 25 count his bunkmate came prone next to him to start his own twenty-five pushups since, he too, had taken some water during their grueling two hour march and run around the base.

Dario Marmont wasn't a bad guy to have as a bunkmate. Respectful, good-humored, if a bit of a country boy. Still, Deckard liked him since Dario reminded him of some of his friends back in Fredericksburg. They were both 16, the legal age a citizen of Earth could sign up for the Systems Alliance Armed Services (with their parents consent), and both had joined after the shitshow that was the Skyllian Blitz. He didn't know the _exact_ reason Dario had joined but if he had to put 50 credits on it, that reason couldn't have been too far from his own.

Deckard finally finished, his arms aching from the constant exercise and conditioning as Gunny Matthews reached the end of the recruits in his company. Walking to the front and center of the formation, Gunny paused before calling everyone to attention.

"Alright you damn lilies! I have been through enough of your shit for the past two days to pick out some leadership potential out of the pile of damn rose petals in front of me."

 _Why can't he just pick a damn flower analogy?_ Deckard thought before his drill instructor began calling out the five-person squad names they had all received the night of their arrival. He went through each of the squads, starting with Alfa, and began choosing a squad leader. Deckard and Dario were in Echo Squad, the last squad. And somehow, in his 16 year old brain, Deckard thought this was a stigma for all recruiting companies, to be the last squad. The look on Chief Matthews' face all but confirmed such a stigma for Deckard. He had to stop himself from taking in a gulp of air; he knew the man would notice.

"And you five. _Echo_ squad," the name spoke with a little bit of vitriol. "Hard to say who has leadership potential thanks to your piss poor aptitude tests and evaluation results. But the Camp Commandant told me I needed to pick one of your sorry asses. A1 Wilmot!" Matthews barked.

A slim girl with very little muscle on her frame took her own gulp of air after the Gunnery Chief called her out. She was all of 5'6" and constantly lagged behind the other recruits during their exercises. _And now SHE'S going to be leading us?_ Deckard derisively thought.

"Front and center, Wilmot!" The girl ran to stand with the other four squad leaders in front of the recruit company. Once she was settled in line, Matthews continued. "You five recruits will now be responsible for the wellbeing of your squad. If one of your squad members is shirking duties, whacked out on drugs, becomes a detriment to your squad, or equally causes your squad to fall behind in the coming weeks, it is your _goddamned_ responsibility to kick them in their ass and get them into line. If you fail to curtail such behavior and I notice ANY conduct issues," his voice became almost unnaturally quiet from his normal treble, "then I will personally bring unto your squad the most vivid living hell that any human, asari, turian, or goddamned KROGAN has ever imagined! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Gunny!" answered all five squad leaders.

"Then welcome to the rank of A2, squad leaders. To your squads...dismissed!" The five ran back to their positions in the formation as fast as they could. "I hope everyone liked my little pep talk to your squad leaders. They are now in charge of you. While I still hold the right to tell you when to sleep and when to eat, your squad leaders are _in command_. Yribarren! Do I make myself understood?" A quiet but quick _Yes, Gunny_ rose up from the other side of the company. "Good, good. Squad leaders, take charge of your squads, break formation for chow...dismissed!"

"Echo Squad!" Camille Wilmot's voice called out in chorus with the other squad leaders of the company. "Form up in one rank, march!" She was getting ready to give another command before Dario spoke up.

"Cami, how's it feel?"

"Dario, shut up, we'll talk back at the barracks." The boy nodded to Camille and she took a breath to give the order before another member of the squad spoke up.

"Seriously Cami, already lording it over us?" Desire Jones spoke up from the middle of the line facing Camille. The frustration on Camille's face was evident as it started to turn read and her eyes narrowed.

"Shut up, Dee. We all know Gunny is watching us. And," an exasperated sound left her throat. "Damn, now we're the last squad here." She clenched her fists at her side. "Echo squad, by the left flank, march!" The squad left the area with Matthews' eyes burning daggers into their collective backs.

They arrived at their barracks with 45 minutes left to eat. As they cleaned themselves up from the morning's conditioning run, their new squad leader started in on them.

"Echo, what the hell was that crap? I'm trying to get our asses back here so we can get some chow and you start asking 50 questions."

"I thought it was only two questions?" Paulo Fraser asked. He was every bit the model soldier in appearance. Thickly built, 6 feet 4 inches of pure genetic perfection. No doubt his parents had money as all of the physical genetic augmentations were present that were legal in Citadel space. But even in two short days the others had taken note, this boy wasn't in Echo squad for nothing.

Camille glanced at Deckard as he tugged a new shirt on and he gave her a _move along_ motion with his hand. "Umm, right Paulo, only two questions. The point is that Gunny obviously has a hard-on for making our lives miserable. As he said, none of us passed our tests with flying colors. So now we're stuck together or we all wash out."

"With Queen Precious over us." Desire interjected.

"See, Dee, that's part of the problem. I didn't _ask_ to be squad leader, so stop already trying to tear me down. We get it, you appointed yourself as de facto leader of Echo yesterday. But tough shit, too bad for you, Gunny called my name. So get over it and let's get some chow."

Dee was about to say something before Deckard stepped in. "Alright, alright. We get it Cami." He began to shoo everyone towards the door. "Let's fight about this when we actually have downtime. Right now, I know that the men would like some food before Gunny's next test of our lack of physical prowess."

"Speak for yourself, hayseed." Paulo said as he walked out the door, leaving the others to catch up. Dario just gave a comforting pat on Deckard's back and muttered something about northern inbreeding as they followed in the big man's wake.

"Men?" Dee said as she came up behind Deckard. "Shit kid, I've seen things in my life that gave me more balls than you were born with."

"Don't take this too harsh Deckard," Camille said next. "But fuck off. Worry about your own problems."

Deckard stopped and stood along the path, shaking his head. Thoughts were already going through his head about how this was nothing like the recruiters said it would be and more like high school back home. _Yet another reason why I graduated early and left that town_. He brooded a few moments more before realizing he was the only recruit in his company that wasn't in the mess hall yet and hurried to catch up and get at least something into his stomach.

* * *

 ** _Thanks for reading!_** _Feedback is appreciated as I write this fanfic. I'll respond to them as best as I can. If you have never read Katkiller-V's Another Realm series, you may want to read Another Realm I and II so that you can understand what is going on. But, it is not required for this story. Don't forget to Follow and Fav this work if you want to be informed when I get more written._


	2. Act I: Chapter 1 - Broken Things

**I don't claim ownership of Mass Effect.**

* * *

 _Set in the Another Realm Universe created by Katkiller-V. Approximately four years before the start of his series._

* * *

ACT I: Basic

Chapter 1: Broken Things

 _09-22-2176_

 _Week 3 of Systems Alliance Basic Training, Class 1-35A_

 _Providence Base - SA, Providence, Rhode Island, United States of America, Earth_

* * *

"A2 Wilmot I have a solid reading on the vessel bearing...26 degrees off of starboard? They appear to have not noticed us...I think."

"You _think_ , Marmont?" Responded a teenage girl sitting at the Combat Information Center (CIC) in the midst of four other teenagers. One, sitting stern of the CIC at the Communications station, was a dark skinned girl named Desire Jones whom everyone called Dee, because she made it known that physical pain would be your reward if you didn't call her Dee. To port sat the huge physical specimen that was Paulo Fraser, manning the Infowar station. Seated on the starboard side of the CIC manning the Fire and Control Station was Dario Marmont. To the front of the CIC sat Deckard Russell, currently at the helm. Camille Wilmot swiveled in her seat to face Dario and sighed audibly, she had plenty of reasons to be frustrated these last couple of weeks.

"Marmont I need an immediate sitrep on the _Firebrand_." Camille tried to keep her voice under control as she gave the order again.

"The _Firebrand_ appears to have weapons offline?" the hapless boy replied.

"Ugh!" Camille yelled out in frustration as she got out of her seat at the CIC and went down to the FnC station.

"Oh come on Cami, not this shit again." Deckard groaned from the helm. "He's never gonna figure it out unless you back off and let him."

Cami looked over her shoulder at Deckard. "Once again Deckard, fuck off."

A voice came in through Deckard's headset. _This is Commander Tula Rainier of the_ SSV Ypres. _I'm trying to reach A2 Wilmot, why is she not responding to my hails?_

"Uhhh...Camille isn't here right now, you'll have to hold while I locate her in the immediate vicinity."

 _What? Dammit Russell! This isn't the time to goof around. Where is Wilmot?_

"Cami get back into the CIC and put your headset on! The Commander is attempting to reach you." Deckard whispered loudly to his squad leader. Turning his attention back to his own headset, Deckard attempted to bullshit his way clear again. "Ma'am, I have recently been notified that A2 Wilmot is currently looking for the appropriate course back to the CIC." His response was met only by static in his headset. "Come in _SSV Ypres_. Do you copy _Ypres_?"

He dutifully reported the loss of comms back to his own commanding officer and was greeted by increased bickering between her and Dario over the readouts on his panel. Sighing, Deckard swung around in his chair and tried to get Dee's attention. This was made all the more difficult by the fact that her back was turned to him. Failing non-verbally to get his Comms' attention, he finally called out to her and shot a quick glance at Cami and Dario's continued exchange.

"Dee! Dee! Dee, did we lose comms?"

Dee Jones swiveled her chair a bit to meet Deckard's eyes. When she found them she gave him one of the deadliest glares he had ever seen.

"So...is that a no or a yes?" Deckard replied meekly.

"You aren't the Queen, you don't get to ask me questions, helmsman." With that bit of advice doled out, Dee swiveled back around to look at her console.

"What the fuck?" Paulo Fraser blurted out. "Cami! Uh, Camille." He finally turned around to see Cami still trying to instruct Dario how to work his station. "Oh fuck this." Paulo got up and slammed both of his fists on the CIC console. "HEY QUEEN!" Everyone quieted down at his outburst. "My system just got overridden if you cared to give a fucking shit about this operation."

Cami glared briefly at Paulo and then her eyes went wide. "Overridden? Shit." She stepped back up to the CIC and asked for a sitrep from Comms. Well, she asked for it twice since Dee ignored her the first time.

"We're fine queeny."

"Marmont sitrep!" Cami snapped.

"Right. Looks like, oh we have incoming...fuck."

"Helm can we outmaneuver?"

"Outmaneuver an approaching, heavily modified pirate corvette at one quarter thrusters? Unlikely."

"Move to a heading of-" her command was cut short as the bridge began to shudder and alarms blared and shrieked. Then darkness.

A voice came over the PA system as overhead lights gradually brightened the room. _Bravo A2 Wilmot. Your squad has failed to apprehend the_ Firebrand _, once again. You are dead. Report to my office immediately_.

"Worst fucking squad, ever." Dee muttered loudly as she threw off her harness. The squad exited the simulator to mock applause from the rest of the recruit company. Dario and Deckard brought up the rear as the boys tried to ascertain just what Dario couldn't understand on his console. The two recruits eventually quieted down after walking out of the audience room and into the clinically white hallway.

Deckard looked around Paulo's hulking frame and saw Camille clenching her fists and seemingly muttering to herself as she led the squad to Commander Rainier's office. _Well, at least Dee isn't insulting her performance_.

The group reached the end of the hallway and Camille knocked once before they heard Rainier tell them to enter and the door slid open. Camille stalled upon entering the office and Deckard, bringing up the rear, found out why as he stepped into the office.

There was Gunny, standing besides the commander's desk. _Goddammit_ , Deckard cursed to himself. The thought must have been on everyone's mind, even their drill instructor's.

"Goddammit Echo squad." The statement was not delivered in Gunny's typical decibel level, which probably put more fear into the recruits than anything else.

"A2 Wilmot what went wrong during the exercise?" Commander Rainier asked tersely as she sat behind an immaculately clean desk and looked at the squad leader of Echo squad, which was now standing at attention in front of her.

"Ma'am, we failed to achieve our mission objective."

"No, that was the outcome. What brought you to that outcome?"

"Ma'am, lack of unit cohesion and comprehension."

"A2 Wilmot I will ask you once again: What went wrong during the exercise?" Deckard hazard a look at the commander and saw the woman's hardened expression.

"A...A1 Marmont could not understand the readouts from his console at a critical point in the mission. To ensure the completion of the stated mission objective I attempted to ascertain the problem and instruct A1 Marmont how to interpret the data his console was displaying."

"And are you qualified to help A1 Marmont in interpreting Fire and Control information?"

"I was at the FnC console yesterday during our last exercise. I had hoped that my brief time with the VI suite would help A1 Marmont understand what he was seeing. Ma'am."

"Camille Wilmot." _Oh shit, full names are never good._ Deckard thought to himself. "Did you seek any other information or did you just **assume that you knew the answer to the problem**?" Commander Rainier finished the question standing behind her desk with a furious look on her face. "Do **any** of you give a fuck about how you are performing during these two weeks of hands-on training?"

Her question was met by blank stares.

"A1 Fraser what did your console read out at the time of Wilmot's departure from the CIC?"

The big guy cleared his throat. "The VI had detected attempts to breach the ship's network, specifically the Fire and Control suite."

"And why didn't you inform your squad leader about such attempts?"

"Bitch didn't ask." Paulo said flippantly. He quickly tacked on a _ma'am_ to try to keep some decorum.

"From what the Gunnery Chief tells me you have yet to sufficiently complete a squad exercise during your three weeks here. I need to ask every one of you a very simple question. Do you _want_ to be in the Alliance Navy? Do you? The way we see it you five don't give a **damn** about what you could learn and you don't give a **damn** about anyone else but yourselves. Have any of you seen a Turian frigate stare you down across the void of space? Have you had to witness pirates ships fly directly behind your vessel and ask for your surrender? Have you ever made a fucking decision in your own lives where people's lives were held in the balance?"

"I have ma'am." Dee Jones spoke up. "How I grew up, people lived or died by my words back on my turf."

"And yet here you are A1 Jones. A recruit with, what appears to be, barely enough humility to not speak about herself in the third-person. Your ego should have been left back in Toronto and with your old crew." Commander Rainier picked up the datapad in front of her and gathered herself before addressing the squad again. "You need to become servicemen or marines. One way or another you need to work together. Suck it up or get the fuck off base. Gunny, take charge of this squad." She spat out the last order and stormed out of the room.

"You heard the nice Commander, fifteen laps around the base in armor and full loadout." Gunny gave them all a smile full of devilish mirth.

* * *

The five recruits were exhausted as they stripped off the last pieces of armor and fell into their bunks. Their fifteen laps had turned into twenty-five laps. Deckard actually found the bunk to be comfortable for once as he started to settle in before the fight began.

"This is some pretty messed up shit," Dee stated. "I go and leave my crew to kill squints for a living and I get stuck with queeny, muscles, and two dipshit nerds."

Knowing what was coming next Deckard let out a moan and rolled his head on his pillow to see his squad leader sit up in her own bunk and confront her instigator.

"Pretty messed up that you can't get out of your own fucking way and listen to authority, you mean?"

"If you _had_ any authority I'd listen to it. You're just a fragile little girl with queen bee issues. I bet you haven't even been bloodied, in both wa-" her retort was cut off by a quick jab to her face from Cami. The lithe girl moving surprisingly fast considering their recent physical exertions.

Deckard got out of the bunk to get in between the two before one of Dee's fists slammed into his cheek, knocking him back. _Damn that girl can hit_ ran through his mind as he stumbled back and struck one of his bunk posts with his heel. That new pain sent him to the ground.

"Dario, some help?" Deckard requested sprawled out on the floor.

"No can do pard. I think I pulled something during the run."

"Paulo?" Deckard searched.

"Fuck them. Why bother?"

"You aren't angered at this turn of events? Another fight?" Deckard was slowly bringing himself back up off the ground when the two rolled into him during their fight, knocking him down with them. He bit his tongue as his head hit the ground, his mouth filling with the taste of blood. Something from close combat training triggered in his head. He grabbed someone's elbow and twisted it, earning a cry of pain and a knee to his groin.

"That was a cheap shot," Paulo rumbled as he grabbed Cami by the hair to pull her off Dee. He saw her elbow jerk back and hit his chest but didn't realize she would sacrifice some hair as she kicked back and caught his knee. The large man crumpled to the ground.

"Fucking bitch!" He cried out as he clutched his now dislocated knee.

"You grabbed my hair you Neanderthal!" Cami shot back before taking another punch to her gut from Dee.

"Girls that's enough," Dario drawled as he slid out of bed. He tried to pull Cami back from Dee once again, this time with a bear hug before Cami threw her head back and then dodged a punch from Dee so that Dario got hit twice in succession.

The brawl lasted a few more moments before all of Echo squad was on the ground bemoaning their pain and various injuries.

"For a queeny, that was some tough fighting." Dee offered through clenched teeth. "Not the best, but it was a fight."

Camille sent an icy glare back at her.

"What the hell is wrong with us?" Deckard asked with a chuckle. "I joined because it was the right thing to do after the Blitz, not to feel like I left one high school to come to another, much more abusive, one."

"Welcome to life Deck," Dario answered while trying to staunch some blood coming out of a potentially broken nose.

A few moments passed before Cami hauled herself up and took stock of her injuries. She patted a rapidly blackening eye and then reached up to feel where her hair had been pulled out by Fraser. "Fuck, I signed up because I had nothing better to do back home."

Paulo started laughing to himself, then Dee started laughing, and finally everyone was laughing at her statement.

"It wasn't that funny," she retorted amidst her own laughter. "Sorry about the knee Fraser."

"Yeah, it hurts, but the pain is keeping my anger under control. But once I get the doc to patch me up…"

"You'll what?" Deckard asked. "Start this shit all over again? Damn, that's the problem to begin with. We're all fuck ups. Maybe we're in Echo squad because we were expected to wash out? Paulo, you got some crazy anger issues. Dee, you've got some kind of god complex - _don't give me that look_. Me, I'm good at nothing, barely passed my vocational test before being recruited. Cami and Dario, well, I don't know what's wrong with you guys, but look at us. Beat to shit mentally and physically because we're fuck ups."

"I...I have a learning disorder. Can't make sense of words sometimes." Dario offered to the group.

"Like dyslexia?" Cami asked.

"No, it's not that, it's something else. Where the words are all jumbled and then they don't get through to my brain. Like my dad would tell me to watch over some farming equipment, make sure the VI's don't glitch out. I could do that. But ask me to give you readouts from the equipment? Shit, I stood by the kill switch while my father employed others to do the technical work."

"How the hell did you get recruited?" Dee inquired.

"Basic stuff is easy for me to learn, I guess. Maybe I should just stick with the Earth Militia back home? Go militia full time for seven years and then...I don't know."

Cami let out a sigh as Dario trailed off. "I'm just a nerd with no athletic skill."

"That's blunt and simple," Deckard huffed. "Doesn't mean you belong with us."

"I...I failed my physical aptitude test. Only made it in since my _father_ pulled some strings. Hooray for being a MP's daughter."

Paulo turned to look at Deckard as he sat up on the floor. "So you aren't good at _anything_?"

"I know my way around an aircar alright. And hell, I love to cook."

Dee snorted, "You like to cook?"

"I was hoping to be a steward. But apparently, it's not a highly respected nor sought after career path in the Alliance Navy. My recruiter had the same reaction you did when I told her."

Everyone was quiet for a couple minutes longer until Paulo groaned as he tried to stand up. "Alright, enough of this chick-flick shit. Deck, help me hobble to the infirmary?"

* * *

 _Four Days Later -_ Firebrand _Scenario - Attempt 5_

"A2 Wilmot I have a confirmed IFF of _Firebrand_ from the vessel bearing 25.4 degrees off starboard." Deckard called out.

"Confirmed, vessel bearing 25.4 degrees starboard. Sitrep helm?" Cami ordered.

"Ma'am, we are at…one-quarter thrusters holding steady for a flyby." Dario responded with a little uncertainty in his voice.

"Cam- I mean A2 Wilmot, I am getting readings that the vessel's barriers are powered up." Paulo offered from Comms.

"Understood. Infowar, anything?"

"VI has not detected anything yet, ma'am." Dee answered back.

"Let's hail them and ask for directions then." Cami said with a smirk.

"Ma'am they are not answering our hails." Paulo replied.

"FnC, expand ladar range, what can we see?"

"Scans come back with a Volus trading ship, some personal yachts, and...Shit, I've lost ladar."

"Infowar?"

"They breached fast, I tried to have the VI pick up the slack but there were too many dedicated attempts, they broke into our system. I was able to isolate a the break in but had to keep it penned up in FnC." Dee informed her squad leader. "Maybe if you-"

"Not the time, Dee." Camille said sternly. "Helm ahead full and bring the broadsides to bear. FnC work on a firing solution. Comms, ping them again." Her orders were greeted with a chorus of _aye aye_ from around her. After twenty seconds an alarm went off to her left.

" _Firebrand_ is still holding course to pass by us yet I've got an energy buildup, possibly weapons." Deckard called out as an answer to the alarm.

Cami tapped her fingers on her armrest, trying to think through the new information. "Comms see if you can ping the _SSV Ypres_. Their vessel may have picked up something." Currently, from what the scenario entailed, the _Ypres_ was on the other side of the planetary system and out of reach for a joint operation.

"Ma'am, firm handshake with the _Ypres_ , bringing up their sensor data." Another alarm sounded.

"I've got another cyberattack attempt." Dee called out. "Targeting helm directly. I've managed to isolate it."

The sensor data appeared on Cami's console as she worked quickly with the ship's VI to correlate all ship location information between the two readings, adjust for time differences, and pick out the any possible changes. "Ah, looks like two ships may still be in the system running silent." Cami said out loud. " _The Embrace_ and _Horned Giant_. Both classified as non-military frigates."

"Frigates? Against this corvette?" Dario scoffed from his place at the helm.

"We don't know if they are hostile. FnC, anything?"

"No ma'am."

Camille Wilmot didn't like this. Sure, she didn't know what else to expect, this was the farthest into the scenario Echo squad had progressed. They had managed to evade every curveball and obstacle thrown in their way so far. Wilmot sat up straighter in her chair and snapped her fingers.

"Curveball!" she called out.

"Strike 2!" Deckard replied. Dario just laughed and shook his head.

"Comms, ping the _Firebrand_ again." Cami ordered.

"No answer. Incoming hail from the _SSV Ypres_."

"Understood, bring it up on screen. Belay that! Deckard," she swiveled her chair to talk directly to FnC. "Do you have a firing solution?"

"Yes ma'am, the _Firebrand_ is lit up." Deckard replied.

"Then why haven't they changed course or attempted to engage?" Cami asked.

"Because...we're bigger?"

"Ma'am another attempt to infiltrate our systems." Dee said from her station, her hands hard at work to help correct the situation.

"Understood. Deck, can you work out a solution for the equivalent of firing a shot across their bow?"

"You want me to eyeball it? Are you forgetting Gunny's Isaac Newton speech he gave a week ago?" Deckard answered with a creeping fear in his voice.

"I've isolated the cyber breach but we lost some more auxiliary sensors." Dee said from her station.

"Understood Jones. Deckard, can you work it into the firing solution?"

"I'll give it my best."

"You've got a minute."

"A minute!" He began to furiously manipulate the haptic interface on his console as Cami swung back to her default position.

"Comms, bring up the _Ypres_."

 _A2 Wilmot have you apprehended the smugglers aboard the_ Firebrand _yet?_

"Ma'am I have not yet ascertained if the _Firebrand_ is a threat to us."

 _Wilmot our intel suggests the smugglers left Horizon aboard the_ Firebrand. _Stop that vessel!_

"Firing solution completed, A2 Wilmot." Deckard said.

"Ma'am, a moment?" Cami cut the line directly from her console. "Fire the warning shot Deck."

"Aye, aye."

The room shuddered slightly as the simulated round was fired.

"And?" Cami asked.

"And….the _Firebrand_ has not been targeted, as ordered, and the round is traveling into Horizon's atmosphere. I'm afraid the planetary government won't be too happy about a new crater near their South Pole, ma'am."

 _Echo squad, simulation ended._ Commander Rainier announced over the speakers. The door swung open behind them as the Commander stepped onto the bridge. "What the hell was that Echo squad?"

Cami stood up and saluted sharply. "Ma'am we had conflicting data from our sensors and the reports we received from the _Ypres_ and I was attempting to settle matters peacefully."

"Peacefully? You just shot a round into a human colony from high orbit! Follow me." Commander Rainier turned on her heel and walked out the door into the audience room where the rest of the recruit company sat.

"Recruits, you have all witnessed Echo company's fifth and final attempt at the _Firebrand_ Scenario. Let me tell you what you all can take from this latest outcome. **Don't assume anything**." Her words were left hanging in the air as the five members of Echo squad finished settling into their chairs. "A2 Wilmot please repeat what you told me just now."

Camille immediately shot up from her chair to stand at attention and delivered the same information again.

"Conflicting information. Why would you not follow an order to attack? The mission briefing was simple, you all heard it. The _Ypres_ was exiting the system but had received intel that known Turian smugglers were leaving Horizon onboard the _Firebrand_. Was there a reason to disobey that order?"

"We did not disobey, ma'am. I was attempting to force the _Firebrand_ into responding to our unsuccessful attempts to communicate with them."

"By firing a round into the Horizon colony?" Commander Rainier asked with a raise eyebrow. Some of the recruits snickered at her question.

"I was attempting to locate the _Horned Giant_." Cami responded.

"You should look in Fraser's pants then Wilmot!" Yelled a voice from the back, bringing the room to mild laughter.

"Quiet on deck!" Rainier called out. "Why would you be looking for another vessel, particularly one that you assumed had the ability to charge weapons whilst masking their drive signature?"

"Curveball ma'am. Using the available information, the _Firebrand_ made no discernible aggressive action towards our vessel. Therefore I believed the orders from the _Ypres_ to be faulty and was attempting to see if the _Firebrand_ was being escorted covertly." Cami said to a silent room.

"And without prior knowledge of the other squads outcomes you had reason to suspect your orders?"

Cami nodded once.

"A2 Jahvi what was the outcome of your completed _Firebrand_ scenario?"

A man about 20 years old stood up with a stomp and a salute. "Ma'am. My squad engaged the _Firebrand_ at close range after dropping out of FTL by advancing on the vessel and disabling their weapons before attempts were made to establish communications. When multiple hails went unanswered and several cyberattacks were initiated we completed the mission by destroying the vessel."

"Thank you A2 Jahvi, be seated." Commander Rainier continued to the other three squad leaders who all told stories with varying details but all scenarios ended just like Alfa Squad, the destruction of the _Firebrand_.

"So you all had a successful mission?" Rainier waited until everyone but Echo squad nodded their heads and then turned to Camille Wilmot, still standing at attention by her chair. "And what if I told you that analysis of the _Firebrand_ debris turned up nothing but bodies of Human and Batarian children, presumably slaves?"

A lone cough broke the silence.

"Echo squad is awarded weekend passes for being the only squad to successfully complete the scenario, but just barely. Let's not fire rounds blindly into a colony again, Camille." Rainier said.

As she turned and exited the room the recruits exploded into demands for an explanation while Cami sat down with a very large grin on her face and pats on the back from the rest of Echo squad.

* * *

 **System Alliance Basic Training**

Recruits enter into basic training already assigned a Military Vocational Code within the Systems Alliance. The MVC given upon recruitment is A1. MVC (one letter; one number) is used throughout the Systems Alliance and denotes proficiency, not rank. The letter is used to denote career path; the number indicates level of experience, as indicated by service record, technical scores, and commendations. All 26 letters are used and numbers range from 1 to 7. The most prestigious MVC is 'N7' representing the most elite special forces personnel and is the only MVC allowed to be worn.

During Basic Training recruits of distinction are conferred the MVC designation A2 if they meet standards to become squad leaders. Because of the nature of basic training, the recruits are only referred to as their MVC for brevity's sake during training scenarios and when addressed by superiors.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you to all of you wonderful people who have viewed my story. Don't forget to Follow to stay up to date. Plus, reviews are nice. I'll try to get at least two chapters up every week but life can get in the way. Thanks again._

 **A/N 2** : _I actually have no idea how to pronounce "Ypres."_

* * *

 **Review Responses**

Guest - Thanks for the review. I do love commas as it brings in so many breaks in sentences to convey thoughtful answers or just regular pauses. But, I scaled back a bit and will endeavor to do so going forward.


	3. Act I: Chapter 2 - No Good Choice

**I don't claim ownership of Mass Effect.**

* * *

 _Set in the Another Realm Universe created by Katkiller-V. Approximately four years before the start of his series._

* * *

ACT I: Basic

Chapter 2: No Good Choice

 _10-14-2176_

 _Week 6 of Systems Alliance Basic Training, Class 1-35A_

 _Providence Base - SA, Providence, Rhode Island, United North American States, Earth_

* * *

' _Basic Training: Allaying a Parent's Worry' - Squad Tactics Informational Description_

The sixth week of Basic Training is named Squad Tactics and is devoted to preparing your child for real-life situations which may arise during their term of service. Three times a day for six straight days squads complete mock scenarios against one another, on their own, or cooperatively with other squads. The scenarios run the gamut of direct firefights to patrol simulations. Similar to the hands-on vessel simulations earlier in the Basic Training, both Systems Alliance Instruction Staff and Training VIs provide standard scenarios with common mission objectives but alter every variable imaginable for each run-through of the scenario. This way, no two scenarios play out exactly the same way and your recruit is provided a unique training opportunity. Providence Base utilizes four different training biomes for the scenarios: Urban, Shore, Forest, and Colony.

Each squad is outfitted with standard-issue Hahne-Kedar weapons modified to work within the safe scenario parameters. Any weapon provided during Squad Tactics scenarios has been approved as non-lethal by the Base Armory Officer prior to issuance. Every recruit's basic training issued armor is outfitted with a VI sensor suite, indicators, and mobility inhibitors to denote the type of simulated injury and severity sustained during the scenario.

Each participant in a scenario is monitored by base medical staff and active-duty corpsmen. While severe injuries may occur, they are rare, and mostly due to improper use of the simulated weaponry provided for the training scenarios. The simulated weapon fire is mildly unpleasant to experience during the scenario but is necessary for the effective training of tomorrow's soldiers.

Your child's safety is paramount to the Systems Alliance; staff may disable all weaponry at any time during scenarios if they feel that a recruit's life or physical well-being is in danger.

 _The Systems Alliance may not be held responsible for any permanent injury which may be sustained during Basic Training and no monetary rewards shall be granted for any injury sustained at Basic Training as per Systems Alliance Parliament Act 2157.0005.25 and Systems Alliance Parliament Act 2163.1034.156_ *

* * *

Echo squad gathered in the urban training biome's ready room. They were the last squad to complete their Squad Assessment Scenario and had taken cat naps throughout the day to stay fresh for their 2200 start time.

Almost everyone in the recruit company had been anticipating Squad Tactics since the middle of last week when they were working on Live Fire training. Their excitement wore off fairly early today as all squads had to sit through a four hour Orientation class run by Gunny Matthews.

Providence Base was the UNAS's Systems Alliance base of basic training and was one of five such training bases on Earth. With this in mind, the Systems Alliance worked with Hahne-Kedar, Sirta Foundation, and Ujjval Systems to create real-life simulation biomes monitored by Andrea, the base's main Virtual Intelligence. The biomes were able to recreate any race in the galaxy as haptic holographic projections which interacted with the environment and the recruits in a realistic manner.

The base housed four training biomes of varying size and not all were located directly on Providence Base. The Shore biome was the largest at 2.4 mi2 and was situated on Prudence Island in Narragansett Bay. Snake Den State Park was taken over by the Systems Alliance specifically to house the 1.2 mi2 Forest Biome. Both the Urban Biome (.8 mi2) and the Colony Biome (4 acres) were located on the premises of Providence Base. The Colony Biome was the most versatile of the biomes where structures were able to be repositioned to provide recruits simulations of various low-population colony towns found in the Milky Way. The Urban Biome was modeled after the slums of Benning City; four city blocks were reconstructed inside of the biome to provide total immersion for the recruits.

The next part of the Orientation class was focused on the various equipment the recruits would be using. All of their armor was outfitted with indicator lights to provide visual cues as to any simulated injuries received during the scenarios. So that recruits could not hide any injury lights, their armor was also equipped with modules developed by Sirta Foundation which inhibited various parts of their body in response to the calculated damage received from small arms fire during each scenario.

Gunny also walked them through the modified weapons at their disposal during the week's scenarios. All squads would be allowed to choose from standard-issue weapons from Hahne-Kedar: the Lancer assault rifle, Kessler Pistol, and Avenger sniper rifle. Each recruit didn't have to go into the scenario with all three weapons. The loadouts would be determined by each squad to suit their aptitude with each weapon. Before each scenario all squads would receive nine simulated overload grenades that could be distributed to up to three members of the squad and six simulated fragmentary grenades which up to two members of the squad could utilize.

The Gunnery Chief had then gone into the safe usage of each piece of weaponry, during which a large portion of recruits had simply nodded off to sleep. No doubt they hoped to be brought up to speed by their squad leaders when they were more attentive to such instruction.

The Orientation class ended on a high note, though. The room was called to attention when Captain Tadius Ahern made an appearance. Captain Ahern was at Providence Base to oversee their Squad Tactics week before moving on to other bases on Earth to oversee those Squad Tactics scenarios. Ahern was emphatic that the recruits take the week's scenarios seriously. He proceeded to express how much he wished he would have had the opportunities afforded to recruits nowadays when he was thrown "into the shitstorm" of his mission during the First Contact War. Ahern had a gruff way of talking that all recruits had given him their full attention by the end of his portion of the class.

That was all behind the members of Echo squad as the 10-minute alarm sounded in the ready room. The squad eagerly approached their assigned weapons locker. Cami opened it with an authorization code from her newly-issued omni-tool and Dee let out a low whistle at the organized weapons.

"Damn, I could have used some of this shit back home." Dee muttered out loud to no one in particular.

"Yes, because giving an inner city gang military-grade weapons would have been terrific for Toronto." Cami answered as she grabbed a Kessler from the rack and synched it to her omni-tool.

"Queen, you know nothing about what would be good for my city." Dee snapped back. She had chosen one of the Lancer's and picked up three incendiaries and began synching everything to her omni-tool.

"Uh, Dee," Deckard spoke up. "Should you really be taking an Avenger? You only beat out Dario on your marksmanship test. Maybe sticking with the Kessler would be best?"

Dee spun around a put a finger in Deckard's face. "Boy. Don't **start** with me. Shooting a target is different than shooting a squint or a human stupid enough to not listen to me. **You** take the fucking peashooter," and she slammed the pistol into Deckard's chest armor, making him stagger a little.

He was steadied by one of Paulo's massive hands. "Not a fight to get involved with, Deck. Or what? You gonna tell me I can't take a Lancer and all of the overloads?"

" _All_ of them?" Cami asked with unveiled irritation. "Paulo, we need to distribute the grenades amongst ourselves. What if you go down and we can't get to you?"

"Don't let me get hit then Queen," he answered with a wink as he scooped up all nine of the overloads.

"So we're back to this now? Infighting?" Dario piped up at the back of the group. Cami made a disgusted sound and walked away from the weapons locker.

Dee and Paulo finished syncing their equipment and moved to stand in another part of the room, talking in hushed tones with each other.

Deckard watched them and then shook his head. "That's never good," he said to Dario as he turned his attention back to the weapons locker. "I thought we were passed this after the _Firebrand_ scenario? I thought the rest of Hands-On training was Paulo just trying to be funny."

His friend laughed as he picked up a Lancer and a Kessler. "Dammit Deck, people think I'm the dumb one. Cats don't change their stripes overnight."

Deckard was trying to comprehend that metaphor when the 2 minute alarm sounded near the entrance to the biome, followed by Andrea's soothing voice announcing the same. He sighed and took an assault rifle and the remaining three frag grenades. He approached his squad as they gathered around the entrance door to hear Cami going over the mission briefing again.

"- patrol mission. Our objective is to keep the peace in this section of the city. Remember, this is our evaluation scenario. Let's try to work together like we did during the _Firebrand_ and not act like we did during the Falling Stars scenario."

"Look Queen," Paulo retorted. "I said I didn't like it when you dislocated my knee and I would get you back." He turned to Dee laughing. "You remember her face when I acted like I couldn't hear her during the last five minutes?" Dee giggled at the memory while Deckard shook his head and Dario looked like he was either going to vomit or soil himself - possibly both.

"Real mature," Cami said as the 1 minute alarm blared. "Alright, just remember, follow my orders and we'll be fine."

"Queen, you ain't ever been in a firefight," Dee responded. "Everyone would do better by listening to me."

Cami, Dario, and Deckard both responded with variations of _What the fuck?_ Cami tried to reassert her authority even as the doors slid open and Dee was the first one out.

The Orientation class had done little to prepare the squad for how real the biome experience would be. The five of them took a few moments to look at the dingy, poorly lit slums they encountered once they stepped over the threshold. The sound of the door closing and locking behind them snapped Deckard out of his gawking. He turned around and saw that it fit seamlessly into the facade of the urban environment they found themselves in.

Around them the simulated denizens were meandering about as if they had always lived there. Deckard realized some of them were taking notice of the five Alliance recruits and were pointing them out to other residents.

"Uh, guys," Deckard said hesitantly. "Maybe we should get moving?"

"That's right Alliance pigs. Piss off and git out of 'ere!" shouted a dangerous looking man leaning against a house.

"What will you do if we don't?" Dee called back menacingly at the amazingly realistic simulation.

"Me an' the boys will ha' a lil' fun with ya' girly. The boys'll receive a bullet to the brain," the man answered as he made a gun with his forefinger and thumb and "shot" it at Deckard.

Dee growled and leveled her weapon before Cami called out to her.

"Jones! Put that weapon down, we're moving out."

"You're just going to let him threaten us?" Jones answered back without taking her eyes off the man.

"Killing him isn't keeping the peace." Cami huffed as she walked away, Dario in tow like a lost puppy.

Deckard put an hand on Dee's shoulder. "Let it go Dee. He's probably just all talk anyways." The man spat on the ground in the recruits' direction in response. Dee simply shrugged her shoulder to get Deckard to remove his hand.

Paulo laughed as he grabbed Dee's other shoulder and brought her along. "Let it go Jonesy. I'm sure we'll be shooting at something soon." he then made childish assault rifle sounds with his mouth as he used his Lancer like a prop, "shooting" down the whole street.

A child in the road in front of them turned with wide eyes at Paulo's display and ran away crying.

"Dammit Paulo!" Deckard snapped. "Can you at least _try_ to be professional and take this seriously?" He brushed passed the two malcontents to catch up with Cami and Dario.

Cami still had her pistol collapsed on her hip while Dario looked every bit the fresh recruit with his head on a swivel and his fingers clenched onto his rifle.

"Easy there cowboy," Deckard said as he came up to Dario. "Relax that grip or you'll break the thing."

"Sure...sure," was all he got in response.

"Echo, stay sharp," Cami said into their comms which, due to their open helmets, only meant she didn't have to yell out the order. Plenty of the simulated humans going about their simulated lives heard her though and gave the recruits nasty scowls or worse.

They walked ten more feet down the street before a human boy about 8 years old ran up to them. "There's a fight at Yuri's depot! Batarians fighting off some men!" The child cried out in what Deckard thought was Russian as he pointed ahead and then ran down an alleyway between two large housing units. He couldn't quite comprehend what language the boy was speaking as his omni-tool provided an almost real time translation into his comms. The result was slightly disorienting as Deckard heard very loud synthesized English in one ear and the boy's frantic Russian in the other.

Cami watched the boy run between the units and disappear. "Ummmm. Right. Fraser and Jones. form up."

"Yeah, yeah." Paulo replied as they strolled up to join with the rest of their squad. "What did the little hologram say?"

"He said there's a fight ahead," Dario blurted out in a rush, his head still trying to cover every angle. Deckard just shook his head at his friend.

"Alright, let's take this by the book," Cami ordered. "Dee, since you have the Avenger, hang back with Dario to cover us. Paulo and Dario, we'll see what this is all about."

"Oh, I'll be sure to pick off a couple squints for you."

"Dee, we don't even know what's ahead of us. And we can't assume the Batarians living here are to blame for the disturbance. Remember, we are here to keep the peace." Cami tried to remind her as she turned away from the group. Cami started walking forward again, her pistol still on her right hip.

The squad fell into the loose formation Cami had specified as they approached a thickening crowd ahead of them. They had to jostle some of the simulated individuals aside as they pushed their way through until they found themselves out in the open where the bodies on the ground spoke to a fist fight having just ended.

Three prone humans moaned on the dirty street as two Batarians stood with fists clenched on a platform in front of a closed bay door, which probably meant this was Yuri's depot. One of the Batarians yelled out in halting Russian if anyone else wanted to fight before he noticed the recruits and dipped his head to the right.

Cami stood still and then dipped her own head to the right in a nod. This gesture was not taken well by the Batarian as he growled out to them in halting Russian, or whatever language the young child had blurted out earlier before running away.

"You mock me, Alliance. Come to cause trouble? Or help?"

Before Cami could reply Dee pushed forward and yelled at the Batarian. "What the fuck are you doing here, squint?"

Some of the crowd around them looked taken aback at the words while others murmured in agreement.

"Insults. Typical. I help defend Yuri's place, this is thanks?"

"Lies!" Shouted one of the beaten up humans as he picked himself off the ground. Two others came to help him stand all the way up. When he was upright he shrugged off their assistance. "These bats were looking to break into Yuri's depot while he was away on business," he said in what could have been German. _Damn, this is going to take some getting used to_. Deckard thought as his brain tried to process the two voices at once phenomenon.

Dee turned to face the Batarians. "What do you have to say fo-" she was stopped as Cami grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the squad.

" **I'm the squad leader!** " Cami yelled at her. Deckard heard muted laughter in the crowd and saw some of the simulations walk away from the crowd shaking their heads. Cami continued, "I **told** you where to be in formation, recruit! Let me handle this."

"Handle what?" Dee asked incredulously. "Everyone knows you can't trust a squint. They literally would rather sell us on Omega then help one of us!" Her look changed to shock. "You're actually siding with those aliens?"

"I don't know yet. **Someone** won't let me handle the situation." Cami walked up to the loading platform outside of the warehouse where the Batarians stood without saying another word or waiting for Dee's response.

Dario stepped besides Deckard with panic in his eyes. "Get a grip, man." Deckard said as he nudged the other recruit. Dario just nodded in reply and swallowed hard. "Shit, what are you doing up here?" Deckard questioned. "Cami said to watch our backs."

"Too many shifty people," Dario gave as an answer.

"You have an _assault rifle_ ," Deckard replied quietly. Dario's reply went unspoken as Cami jumped off the raised platform and walked over to the human who had spoken out earlier. He had been joined by the other two people who were on the ground when the squad had first arrived on the scene. Deckard glanced to his left and saw Paulo standing amidst the crowd, the simulations giving the big man a wide berth, his arms crossed in front of him just watching Dee intently.

The girl was doing her best to not interfere but she was constantly shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was also regripping the Avenger as if trying to find the best way to hold it to fire it off quickly.

Cami talked to the humans for a few minutes more before motioning to them to wait here with her hands and walking back to the squad. As they pulled away from the crowd to get a little privacy, Cami gave them a summary of what each group had said.

The Batarians claimed they worked for Yuri as his helpers. But Cami had trouble understanding why they couldn't produce any evidence from inside the depot. Either they didn't have the key or their employer didn't keep any information in the first place. Their Russian wasn't good enough and her omni-tool's attempt to translate their Low Batarian language produced too much confusion for her due to the synthesized echo. However, she was certain that they were emphatic that they had every right to be on Yuri's property and to protect his wares.

The humans on the other hand claimed that the Batarians were local smugglers who wanted nothing more to pillage Yuri's stocks and sell them for a profit elsewhere in the city. They had been tasked by Yuri before he had left to watch over his warehouse.

"So who do we believe?" Dario inquired after a pregnant pause. "My money's on the bats."

"Give me a fucking break!" Dee burst out. "This isn't a feel good promotional vid. The squints clearly don't belong here. Do you see any other of their kind around?"

"Yeah, no other aliens around except them two. Wait. How smart is this simulation? Maybe if I shoot a random simulation we'll see how both groups react. Then-"

"Dammit Paulo, stop thinking of this as a simulation and start treating this like an actual patrol," Cami scolded. "Dario, thank you for your input. Dee you clearly have a racist bent against the Batarians so I don't really know how to take your input."

"Take it as the truth Queen," Dee interjected.

"Paulo, you seem to agree with Dee. Deckard that leaves you. Thoughts?"

All heads turned to Deckard. "Dee and Paulo are right Cami," Deckard answered reluctantly. "And you said it yourself, you couldn't really understand what they were trying to tell you."

"That's just because of this stupid almost real-time translation. I think they were saying their hiring credentials were in the office, they just didn't have a key."

"Right. You _think_ they said that," Deckard replied.

"But why were their backs turned to the warehouse?" Cami questioned.

"Maybe they just got caught trying to break in. Shit girl, you can't be that naive?" Dee replied.

Cami bit her bottom lip in thought. "Fine. Fan out on this side of the crowd. I'll ask the aliens to leave."

"You'll order them," said Paulo. "We are the law. Order them or shoot them." He finished with a wink and a smile.

Cami made a sound of disgust before waving her hands at her squad to spread out. She then stomped back to the front of the warehouse to speak to the Batarians. Her words were loud enough for most of the crowd to hear. "While this is a tough situation where any outcome is a bad outcome, I need to...order you to disperse from this location and return to your homes."

"But...Yuri's. We protect. Like he told us. We work with Yuri." The lead Batarian pleaded as he refused to move.

"I need you to leave the premises," Cami repeated. "Return to your homes."

"The Queen said move. Move!" Dee yelled out. The Batarian simulations bared their teeth but tilted their heads slightly to the right. As they stepped off the platform the crowd began to disperse as well.

Cami got the human antagonists to leave the area around the warehouse area before the squad started their patrol again. They had no big issues like they had experienced at the warehouse. They listened to complaints from a local shopkeeper about the continued theft of some food items; complained to each other about how late it was; told some more vagrant looking simulations to stop congregating; and were just getting finished checking on some closed businesses as they neared the end of their looped route when they head two pistol shots ahead of them but around the bend.

They ran forward and encountered a somber scene, even for a simulation. The two Batarians they encountered earlier were lying on the ground, very realistic blood pooling around their heads. Standing around them was a group of five humans, all of the ones from the earlier confrontation. Though now they had armed themselves with some pretty nice weaponry for a colony.

"Are those Strikers and Banshee's?" Paulo asked out loud pointing his assault rifle at the humans.

"What's going on here?" Cami asked, this time with her pistol finally off her hip and raised at the human simulation whom she spoke with at the warehouse. "Did you shoot those aliens?"

"Alliance. So glad you're here. These bats were making a commotion about having to leave Yuri's depot. They were scaring some of the locals with the way they were acting."

Cami motioned to the Striker pistol he was holding. "Where'd you get that?" None of the ragged colonists said anything in response but Cami saw one of the simulation's eyes glance back in the direction of the warehouse. "Where did you get those weapons? Answer me."

"Why?" The simulation's question had an edge of hostility.

Dario spoke up from behind. "Uhh, Camille? These bats look like they were shot in the back of the head."

Cami adjusted her grip on her pistol. "Drop your weapons and stand down for questioning." She took a step towards the simulations which unfortunately got her blasted from a Banshee on full auto.

The sudden attack took all of Echo squad by surprise. Dee moved to the scant cover provided by the housing units the quickert than her squad members. Paulo tried to fire off a couple rounds as he ran with Dee but couldn't manage to make his rifle work. Dario was the closest to Cami and paid for it. He was down with a serious shoulder and elbow injury. Deckard managed a few bursts from his assault rifle as we went in the opposite direction from Paulo and Dee.

"My gun won't fire!" Paulo yelled out.

"Turn it on, dumbass!" Deckard shouted back across the road.

"HOW!?" Paulo screamed.

Dee was busy firing off shots from her sniper rifle to Paulo's left. This amounted to little more than sporadic covering fire, if it was even that. Deckard yelled into his comms for Dee to help Paulo with his rifle. She was looking down to help him when pistol rounds found their target and rang off her helmet. Her surprised and pained yelp went through the comms before she crumpled to the ground.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._ The mantra continued in Deckard's mind in time with bursts from his Lancer as he popped in and out of his cover. He was trying to take out the humans from right to left. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ Being the best shot in the squad made this task somewhat easier. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ But Dee was right earlier, the simulations were not like their Live Fire targets. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ For one, they shot back. For another thing, they moved. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

Deckard managed to drop two of the five before his left hand was hit. It felt like a very dense paintball had smacked into his hand. The inhibitors helping with the painful sensation by causing his hand to lock into a fist with a quick snap and clack of his semi-armored gloves.

Unable to hold the assault rifle, Deckard dropped it while he crouched back down into cover. He got his pistol off his hip and was about to start returning fire before he remembered Paulo was not out of the fight. Chancing a look to his left he saw the big man hiding behind his scant cover, slamming his assault rifle on the ground trying to get it to fire.

Deckard clasped his Kessler back onto his hip and, with his good hand, tossed his rifle over to his squadmate. "Take it and fire!" Deckard yelled out.

Paulo promptly popped out of cover and, to Deckard's utter disbelief, stood up and sprayed rounds downrange towards their attackers. This brazenly stupid idea earned Paulo three shots to the chest and he fell to the ground.

Deckard shook his head and then popped up a bit to fire off several more rounds. But his attackers had moved up and all his shots hit nothing but housing units. His hesitation to get back into cover earned him a shot in the shoulder. It hurt, but he could still move it. _Must have been registered as a glancing shot._

Crouching behind cover and firing his pistol blindly to stop the advance he remembered his grenades. But the idea was quickly dismissed due to how close Dario and Cami were to the attackers. Sure, Cami was most likely "dead" but Dario was likely just "severely injured." So frag grenades wouldn't be a welcome addition to his injuries since it could mean his "death."

He fired off a few more blind shots before remembering the overloads on Paulo. He paused to judge the distance to make it to the idiot's fallen form. Deckard thought he could make the 20 foot distance. He blindly let loose four more shots and steeled himself for the run. He waited for a lull in the gunfire and began his mad dash.

He was three steps away from Paulo before he was shot in the calf, then his thigh seized up in pain, and finally a round slammed into his shoulder blade as he fell awkwardly onto Paulo and Dee.

"Ooooowwwwww," he wheezed out at the pain coursing through his body as he heard a horn blare. Andrea's soothing electronic voice announced the end of the evaluation scenario.

* * *

Deckard felt like shit. He would have cherished that feeling if he knew what awaited Echo squad back in the ready room.

Five beaten and bruised recruits sat exhausted in the ready room. Yet this was no time to relax. That they were sitting was a blessing. Yet the presence of Captain Ahern kept everyone on edge. Ahern was still in his dress uniform from this morning's class and holding a datapad in his hand, and had been looking it over since the base staff had brought the recruits back into the ready room and disabled their mobility inhibitors.

Ahern waited, unabashedly and silently, as Echo squad slowly took off their armor, no one making a sound for once. After their armor was peeled off, Ahern continued to be absorbed in his datapad and paced back-and-forth as they put their equipment back in their assigned weapons locker. Once that was done Ahern sternly motioned them to sit down as he never took his eyes off the device in his left hand.

That was five minutes ago. The silence was too much.

"Captain Ahern, may I ask what we are doing here?" Cami finally hazarded to break the silence.

Ahern looked at his omni-tool. "2245." The recruits gave each other sidelong glances as silence returned to the room.

"Sir?" Cami questioned.

The hardened captain continued to look at his datapad as he answered the question. "The evaluation scenario lasted 25 minutes. The ass-kicking your squad just received lasted five minutes. Do you know who usually finishes the evaluation scenario in 30 minutes?" Ahern didn't even look up for a response. "Those squads who excel at acting like **marines!** "

The silence and staredown Ahern gave the five recruits made everyone, even Dee Jones, feel uncomfortable.

"A1 Marmont who is your squad leader?"

Dario answered in the barest whisper. _Cami_.

"A1 Marmont are you _sure_ that A2 Wilmot is your squad leader?" The question was directed to the frightened young man but Captain Ahern was staring down Dee Jones.

Dario responded with a small twitch of his head forward.

"A1 _Desire_ Jones," and everyone heard the emphasis on Dee's full first name. "Who is your squad leader?"

"A2 Wilmot...sir." Dee answered in a monotone voice. The irate captain nodded.

"A1 Fraser do you want to be a marine?"

Paulo nodded his head vigorously.

"Before this scenario I read all of the reports on each one of you. Your background reports, aptitude tests, your recruitment physicals, recruitment Q & A's, drill instructor notes, hands-on scenario evaluations, diet, love life, whatever the hell report I wanted, I got. Do you know why? Because I have four 3-hour classroom sessions and seven training scenarios to turn you children into some of the best goddamn soldiers that humanity has to offer.  
"Because when the spikes come calling on you with a whole damn legion, filled to the brim with soldiers trained for a year from their 15th birthday to blow your head off in three shots, I need you pieces of shit to be ready to hold a goddamn line. When the Hierarchy comes to knock our pale asses down a peg I need you worthless sacks of filth to be able to follow a damn order!  
"Yet here I am, Echo squad, having to spend time offering a fucking pep talk to a bunch of dumb shits because I need to know they can **FIRE A FUCKING RIFLE**! Are you scared A1 Marmont? Are you? You aren't nearly scared enough. The galaxy doesn't give a **damn** about your issues. There are trillions of aliens just looking to put a round, _BAM!_ , right into your fragile skull. Hell, there are plenty of wastes of humanity who are looking to do the same!"

Captain Ahern straightened his back and his uniform.

"A1 Fraser, act like a moronic child in one of my biomes again and I will kick your ass back to Lompoc without batting an eye."

Paulo flinched like he had been kicked in the gut at the statement. His face began to flush as his unknown secret had been revealed.

"A1 Marmont, grow a pair and ask for help or I'll kick your ass back to your father's Arkansas farm."

Dario just nodded and slumped in his chair as Ahern continued with his very real threats.

"A1 Jones, learn your place, or else I make a call back to Toronto-"

"I understand sir," Dee interrupted with worry and shame in her eyes and in her voice. Ahern brushed off the interruption and nodded once.

"A1 Russell," the pause as Ahern looked at Deckard made the young man immediately start to sweat. "Your ability to eliminate hostiles was only exceeded by your moronically bad tactical decisions. Act like a goddamn N7 during training again and I'll kick your ass back to your parent's basement."

Deckard squeaked out a _Yessir_.

"A2 Wilmot. Take. Control. Of. Your. Squad. Or daddy's going to have to listen how you messed up your last chance. I'll let him do the ass kicking for me."

Cami pursed her lips but gave Ahern a deathly stare.

"Get the hell out of my biome and back to your barracks."

* * *

 **Systems Alliance Basic Training Locations**

The Systems Alliance maintains five military bases on Earth specifically devoted to training new recruits. Providence Base, United North American States; Bejing Base, Chinese People's Federation; Sussex Base, United Kingdom; Buenos Aires Base, Argentina; Johannesburg Base, South Africa. Each location houses state-of-the-art training biomes to immerse recruits in the reality of active-duty assignments.

* * *

 **A/N** : _Shit. Just realized that every chapter during Basic Training may be like a Police Academy movie. And if that pop culture reference went over your head, I'll kick your ass back to the '80s. Just kidding. Wasn't planning on having Tadius Ahern appear in this fanfic but he REALLY fit the role that I was going to have Gunny Matthews play during Squad Tactics_. _I wish I could tag Ahern for this fanfic._

 _Have any questions? Comments? Just want to say hi? Feel free to leave a review. Don't forget to fav and follow the story. It does good stuff for my shallow vanity._

* * *

 **Review Responses**

Tusken1602 - Thanks for the kind remarks, glad you are liking it.


	4. Act I: Chapter 3 - Curveball

**I don't claim ownership of Mass Effect.**

* * *

 _Set in the Another Realm Universe created by Katkiller-V. Approximately four years before the start of his series._

* * *

ACT I: Basic

Chapter 3: Curveball

 _10-19-2176_

 _Week 6 of Systems Alliance Basic Training, Class 1-35A_

 _Providence Base - SA, Providence, Rhode Island, United North American States, Earth_

* * *

Echo squad had taken Captain Ahern's warnings to heart. While they had not been able to successfully complete every scenario, they had gave everything that they had as individuals. 'Everything they had' amounted to a tied record with Charlie squad for the worst record during the week.

Squad Tactics training week inevitably boiled down to a competition. This competition was not promulgated from the drill instructor or base staff but rather was an unspoken requirement. Looked at another way, it's what happened when you get any group of 16 to 20 year olds together in win-lose situations.

Each squad in a recruit company is trained in six scenarios featuring three scenario types: Hostage, Patrol, Defense. The Hostage and Defense scenarios have a solo session and a co-operative session with another squad in their recruit company. The Patrol scenarios have a solo session and a head-to-head session. In this way, each squad experiences almost the same training program as the other squads in their company.

Echo squad's record was 2 - 4; tied with Charlie squad as the worst in the company.

The five misfit recruits sat in their small barracks. Dee Jones and Paulo Fraser sat together on Paulo's bed, the obvious chemistry between the two had been growing throughout the week. Dario Marmont and Deckard Russell sat on Deckard's bed while Camille Wilmot leaned against a small dresser between the two bunks. They were preparing for their final test. Except there was a small problem.

"Seriously? No one knows what the hell is going to happen tomorrow?" Paulo asked for a third time in 10 minutes.

"Unicorns and rainbows," Deckard spoke up and then shot a wink at Paulo.

"Ugh! Guys, this isn't helping!" Cami stated as she rubbed her forehead.

"Well, has Deck's girl got any insight?" Dee asked

"One, she isn't 'my girl,'" Deckard replied using air quotes with his fingers. "And.."

"Deck, you saved her life and now you two are inseparable whenever you can be together. A pig doesn't have to know slop to eat," Dario corrected his friend. The metaphor clearly flying over everyone's head.

 _Echo squad's third scenario was a cooperative defense with Charlie squad. Because the scenario was early in the week, intra-squad teamwork was basically non-existent. Dee had put in the effort to listen to Cami's orders but still did her own thing. This was immediately noticed by Charlie's squad leader._

 _Bianka Seager was a strong-built woman with skin the color of latte and hair as black as a raven. Her stature and her muscular physique commanded respect. Her disgust at working with Echo squad was palpable from the beginning. She had taken over control of both squads to set up their defensive position. Bianka integrated the squads together to have them cover both levels of the area the 10 recruits were to hold._

 _Bianka had taken personal notice of Deckard when, during the middle of the firefight that had ensued, Deckard noticed she was about to be flanked by three Blue Suns simulations. He was on the second level with his sniper rifle and had taken out two of the mercenaries but his weapon overheated. The surviving mercenary had knocked Bianka down with an overload and had been reaching for his shotgun when Deckard had jumped from the second level. His aim had been true and Deckard slammed into mercenary and drove him into a makeshift barricade, ending the threat._

 _Deckard had then stumbled over to Bianka's prone form, laughing to himself about what he had just done and the fact that it worked. He offered her his hand and simply asked her._ **Are you okay?** _He had been about to pull her to her feet when, as thanks for his chivalry, he was shot by a mercenary sniper and out of action for the rest of the scenario. His squad had laughed their asses off afterwards because he had fallen with his now immobilized hand outstretched and that hand had landed on Bianka's...lap._

"I keep telling you, we just have a lot in common!" Deckard protested.

"That's what you keep saying Deck. I'm still not buying it," Dee said with a smirk as she leaned a little bit more into Paulo's side.

"Guys, I don't think Deck's lack of relational awareness is what we should be focusing on," Cami said as she tried to get the meeting back on track. "We got lucky twice."

"Hey!" Paulo exclaimed playfully. "I thought we did pretty good today. Held our own against 3 Asari pirates."

"Without biotics," Cami replied. "Still, it is true, we had some semblance of teamwork."

"Cuz you let me do whatever the hell I wanted. Felt good to flank that one bitch."

"Dee, Deckard exposed himself to enemy fire to give you enough time to flank her," Cami corrected.

"Queen, you always gotta ruin the point." Dee stared her down before a loud ping rang out.

All eyes turned to the barracks door to see Gunny Matthews. All five recruits shot up to attention.

"Relax Echo," Gunny grunted out. "Except you Wilmot. Emergency call from Vancouver came through. Let's go to my office for a private line."

Cami looked to Dario and Deckard with trepidation in her eyes before she swiftly walked away with Gunny.

Dee let out a whistle. "Shit. That can't be good. They only allow that kind of private line shit for deaths and shit."

"Eloquent Dee," Deckard said as sat down on his bunk and began reading a datapad that had been lying on his dresser. A thrown pillow knocked the datapad out of his hand.

"Show some respect Deckard," Paulo said menacingly.

"I had to get shot today while she was taking her sweet time on the flank!"

"I like this," Dario said with a smile. "Much better than actually fighting each other."

All three of them scoffed at Dario's statement. Dee and Paulo got up from his bunk and went to lay down in Dee's bunk, intentionally the furthest from the door. They weren't doing anything overt, just laying down next to each other and talking.

"Them two, huh?" Dario said into the silence as Deckard picked up his datapad and started to read it again. "'Bout time me and Cami-"

"What?" Deckard said incredulously. "Dario, you're my best friend here so take this to heart, that girl is out of your league."

"Said the plow horse chasing after a filly."

"I…" he had to be sure he understood that metaphor correctly before answering the country boy. "I am _not_ chasing after a filly. And her name is Bianka."

"Ah, ha! So you _are_ concerned about her?" Dario drawled.

"She's about to replace you as my best friend here," Deckard mumbled, trying to focus on his datapad once again.

"Awww, sweet of you. Whatcha looking at anyways?" Dario inquired, reaching for the datapad.

"No concern of yours!" Deckard replied trying to keep the datapad away from his friend's grasp. But he was lying in bed and Dario was standing next to him, the datapad was out of his hands easily.

" _Asari Cooking for Beginners_? You into the fish food now?"

"Maybe I want to expand on more than just my knowledge of UNAS cuisine."

"Burritos with a side of coleslaw just ain't cutting it anymore?" Dario asked. "Or...shit. Naw."

"What?" Deckard asked.

"Maybe a lucky A2 Seager likes the fish food?" Dario responded with a triumphant smile.

Deckard stood up to tell his friend how wrong he was when the door opened and a sniffling Camille Wilmot came into the barracks. Gunny Matthew was actually showing an emotion other than anger, consoling her as he helped her walk to her bunk. After she was seated, Gunny's old demeanor returned.

"Lights out in 15, Echo." The door closed behind him as brusquely walked out.

Dario was the first to sit beside Cami whose sniffling was starting to trail off. "Aww hon, is everything alright? Anyone hurt back home?"

Cami sniffed once more and then laughed darkly. "The only _thing_ that's hurt is my father's ego."

"What?" Dee said in confusion.

"Gather 'round, I have some news and only 15 minutes."

* * *

 _10-20-2176_

 _Colony Training Biome Ready Room  
_ _Providence Base - SA, Providence, Rhode Island, United North American States, Earth_

 _The mission is simple Echo Squad._ Captain Ahern's voice commanded from the ceiling speakers. _The Alliance has verified intel that a local slaver operation is packing up and getting ready to leave the colony. We need you to infiltrate and raid their base of operations to hold them on planet. Reinforcements will arrive 30 minutes from now._

"Understood, sir." Cami said, her voice full of determination.

The rest of Echo squad was standing two by two behind her. Deckard had set aside his sniper rifle for an assault rifle, two frag grenades, and four overloads. Dee had finally been convinced, mostly by Paulo, to take some advice. She had equipped two pistols from the weapons locker; the second belonged to her fledgling boyfriend. Paulo would act as tech and fire support as he was equipped with the remaining five overload grenades and an assault rifle. Dario and Cami both had a couple frag grenades along with an assault rifle and pistol.

 _Very well. Godspeed, and stop those bastards_.

The doors opened as the captain finished. Cami ordered Echo squad forward at the double-quick. The colony biome was not very large but had been configured for this scenario with a series of 10 foot tall walls that doubled-back on themselves to provide a snaking corridor the recruits had to travel through. Once out of the walls Echo squad came face to face with a large building and bay door.

Cami ordered Paulo and Dario to one side of the door and took the other two squad members to the opposite side. "Dee, look for a side entrance," Cami ordered. Dee grinned, nodded, and began to work her way around, both pistols out of their holsters. "Paulo, sitrep."

"Door's just about open Queen," came the reply from the big man, who everyone had learned was uniquely skilled at breaking into VI suites.

Dee came huffing back next to her squad leader and Deckard. "Nothing Queen."

"We're in business!" Paulo called out as the door shuddered and began to slowly rise up.

"Let's make it quick, Echo. Keep your lines and don't sweep over each other. Paulo and Deck, take top. Dee, find the weak flanks. Dario, just keep your head on straight." Cami snapped off.

The gravity of the situation seemed to have finally paid off as there was no dissension.

When the doors were high enough to allow them to enter, Cami gave the order and Echo swept into the building.

They were met by crates stacked upon each other throughout the cavernous interior and no one in sight. _Clear_ rang out from four voices. "Confirmed." Cami responded. "Paulo, Deck. Figure it out." Both recruits grouped up with each other from their locations on opposite sides of the room, which could have easily fit three airtrucks. Cami looked above her to see a catwalk encircling the room.

"It's a killzone," Dee muttered as a door opened 20 meters in front of them followed by a smoke grenade.

Cami ordered everyone into cover before a flashbang went off in front of their position.

"Fucking flashbangs!" Dee yelled out. "Who the fuck authorized that?"

"Who cares?" Cami yelled back. They began to hear muffled orders directing Alfa squad. Cami risked a look and saw the other squad filing out of the doorway wearing full helmets. "They're much better equipped than we are. Echo, suppressing fire!"

Deckard, Dario, Dee, and Cami all rose up and let loose a volley. Their momentary advantage was taken away when all four of them overheated at the same time.

"Dammit Echo!" Cami yelled into the comms as she and her squad ducked back into cover. "Stagger it next time."

Two overloads exploded in front of where Cami and Dee were in cover. Cami's rifle chimed to let her know it was ready to fire. "Dee, I'll try to cover you, get to a flank position if you can." A nod of confirmation and Cami fired off another volley again at full auto.

Dee made it behind cover just as Cami had to duck back down. "Paulo, Deck, I need a sitrep."

"I can't find it!" Paulo answered back.

"Dario, how are you doing?"

"Like two dogs in heat," he replied with some strain in his voice before he let loose a volley at two members of Alfa squad in front of his position.

"What?"

"He's fucking great," Deckard answered for his best friend. "Cami, they aren't pressing us!"

"Opened!" Paulo shouted.

"Deck, work on it." Cami ordered.

After a short firefight, with no sound from Dee since she got to Alfa squad's flank, Cami saw more figures appear on the catwalk.

"Second squad!" Cami called out. She turned to Deckard who was busy messing with his own omni-tool. "Status?"

Her answer was two frag grenades off to her left. She saw Dario's body fall to the ground and storage crates tumble on top of him. "Dario!" Cami cried out in fear, those crates weren't light.

The commotion and explosion had given pause to the other two squads attacking Echo. A lone voice broke through the lull.

" _Curveball, curveball, curveball!_ " Deckard screamed out into the comms.

Immediately Paulo, Deckard, and Cami threw out their overloads and fragmentary grenades from behind cover as the second-level squad began firing...into Alfa.

The three members of Echo popped out of cover to lay down more suppressing fire. Four members of Alfa squad went down from the overwhelming fire rather quickly. Dee finally revealed herself by tackling Alfa's squad leader and downing him with a point blank shot to his chest from her pistol.

"Deck, Paulo, check on Dario!" Cami ordered as she strolled into the middle of the room.

The second squad entered the lower level and stopped to face Echo's squad leader. Dee walked up next to Cami from her position in the shadows as the other squad resumed their walk forwards to meet with Cami.

"He's out of it. Breathing. Probably a concussion," Deckard reported.

"Who's the shithead?" Dee asked to the second squad as they came to a stop opposite the two girls.

A person near the middle of the opposing line meekly raised their hand. Dee charged them and raised her fist as if to hit the poor sap but shot their knee with the pistol in her other hand. She fell on top of the recruit and began pummeling them.

"That's enough of that!" Ordered the opposing squad leader as they took off their helmet. "Camille, it was an accident."

"Tell that to Dee, Bianka." Cami said with a grin as the other girl had to be pulled off of the helpless Charlie squad member by base staff as they flooded into the room to attend to the downed recruits.

* * *

"This is the thanks I get?" Captain Ahern vented as he stood over Camille Wilmot and Bianka Seager. "Training spoiled brats to protect Earth's colonies was supposed to be a great career move, they said. Now I have not one but **two** squad leaders making up their own rules!"

"Captain, if I may?" Cami asked.

"You will anyways Wilmot, just say it."

"This decision was mine in its entirety. I fully understood the ramifications but felt this was within the rules of the engagement." She paused but the captain gave her the _go on_ motion with his hand.

"The scenario, as described, was to take down a slaver operation that was about to leave one of our colonies. You yourself said intel confirmed the numbers and location of the slaver and their gang. However, through my own contacts, I received information that your intel was wrong."

"How did you know about 'my intel' if you hadn't heard the scenario parameters?" Captain Ahern's voice trailed off. "That emergency phone call."

"Again, I received information that the slaver hired another group to ambush any Alliance patrol-"

"Don't keep roleplaying with me, Wilmot! You will tell me who was on that call and what was discussed!"

Cami hesitated, her cheeks began to flush and pinpricks of sweat appeared on her brow.

"Grow a pair and tell me or I'll pull the damn records and kick you out for interfering with a Systems Alliance military training program." The captain threatened.

"Pardon me, sir. But the records have already been expunged. I'm not at liberty to say more," Cami risked a glance at Bianka who was intrigued at the ongoing exchange.

Captain Tadius Ahern pinched the bridge of his nose. "How did you get Charlie squad on your side?"

"I had better payment," Cami bluntly replied. "And, I'm sorry sir, that is also privileged."

"Tell him," came a voice from the doorway.

"Admiral on deck!" Captain Ahern called out as the three occupants snapped to attention.

"At ease." Rear Admiral Steven Hackett replied. "Camille Wilmot. If you do not wish to tell Captain Ahern, then tell me. But I _will_ tell Captain Ahern. We don't like our faces dragged through the mud."

"Sir," Bianka said before Cami could respond. "She offered information vital for my family's business."

"Bianka!" Cami pouted before a stern look from Hackett had her snap back to attention.

"Go on, A2 Seager." Admiral Hackett said in his gravelly voice.

"A2 Wilmot let me know about three upcoming projects the government would be awarding."

"So she blackmailed you?" Captain Ahern asked.

"No, sir. Just, informed me to help with my decision." Bianka replied.

"What were the specifics, recruit?" Admiral Hackett ordered.

"That information has not yet been received, sir." Bianka replied softly.

"Then give me a summary," said the admiral tersely.

"In the next three months the UNAS government will be putting out bids on an advanced medical VI suite, data conglomeration algorithms, and a research grant for advanced medigel applicators."

The graying war veteran looked from Bianka to Cami. His eyes were searching for an answer but seemed to find none. "Care to enlighten me, A2 Wilmot?"

"Sir, I cannot. All I knew I told her."

Admiral Steven Hackett stood there and rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "A2 Seager, you are dismissed."

"Aye, sir." Bianka shot out the door without a look behind her.

"A2 Wilmot I'm troubled by this collusion." The admiral stated matter-of-factly. "What led you down this course of action?"

"Training, sir. Permission to speak freely?" Admiral Hackett gave her a nod. "I started to play the game, started to plan, before the scenario.. Obviously I was forced to play the game because of my informant but I couldn't pass up the opportunity. My squad is barely making it such as it is. And really, they are barely my squad. We are the washouts that haven't washed out."

Cami saw the admiral sizing her up. He began to rub his chin again.

"Who was on the emergency call, Wilmot?"

"Captain Ahern knows."

The captain stared at her for a few moments. " _Your father_?" The junior officer replied. "Fucking politics."

Admiral Hackett smirked. "Captain, this appears to be above our pay grade. Wilmot, you are dismissed but I will be filing a complaint, not that it will do me any good. Tell President Huerta he has one hell of a granddaughter."

"Aye aye, sir."

* * *

 **A/N** : _And….fade to black. I know this is a shorter chapter but it was the best place to stop. I could have gone into more detail about the curveball but felt that my readers are smart enough to put two and two together to make four. And, SURPRISE! Badass Hackett makes an appearance, will it be his one and only? I like cameos and felt, again, Hackett fit the best here. Who else could have gotten Camille to spill the beans?_

 _If you want to know more about my evolving storytelling voice, read my response to Legendary Junk Mail's review. I believe I found a better solution in this chapter to signify who is speaking._

 _ALSO - 2 million internet points to the person who can name the pop culture reference I put in this chapter. I hope you all like my fourth-wall breaks with nods to the past decades of America's pop culture. Next chapter's reference will be an easy one._

 _ **Thank you all again for your Favorites, Follows, and Reviews! It's awesome to play around in Katkiller-V's universe and your responses are always cool to see.**_

* * *

 **Review Responses**

 _Legendary Junk Mail_ \- First, it's awesome that I have grabbed your attention. My storytelling voice is a based on an omniscient retelling of the events but rest assured, this IS Deckard Russell's story. Right now, I find it hard to tell it solely from his POV because of the world-building that has to occur. If this were taking place in the Terminus, I don't think I would be spending nearly so much time jumping between individual characters or speaking with an omniscient voice. What you are also dealing with in your confusion is when I jump between Echo squad's first and last names. I think I will stick with the "informal" first name references as they were in this chapter. I had originally intended first names to be used when Echo was talking amongst themselves and last names when in a military setting, but you may be right, it's too damn confusing. Deckard Russell's POV will become more apparent after Boot Camp (Act II, onwards). Or, at least I hope it will ;)

 _Tusken1602_ \- I'm glad you are liking the chapters. Thanks for reading!

 _Katkiller-V_ \- Hopefully I portrayed "good ol' Echo squad" once again in their fighting capabilities this chapter. I think it's a good juxtaposition between Cieran Kean's first battle and what is now their 8th combat battle. (IE, they suck and don't have very good situational awareness)

 _Seabo76_ \- Thanks for the kind words.


	5. Act I: Chapter 4 - The Good Moments

**I don't claim ownership of Mass Effect.**

* * *

 _Set in the Another Realm Universe created by Katkiller-V. Approximately four years before the start of his series._

* * *

ACT I: Basic

Chapter 4: The Good Moments

 _10-30-2176_

 _Week 8 of Systems Alliance Basic Training, Class 1-35A_

 _Providence Base - SA, Providence, Rhode Island, United North American States, Earth_

* * *

Deckard Russell had finally started to really enjoy Basic Training during the past week and a half. After their successful final evaluation during Squad Tactics, Echo squad had mostly gone their separate ways. They were still together for PT in the morning, chow time, and in their barracks but with the time spent on career training, not everyone was together all the time.

Career Week, really a misnomer since it is two weeks long, was the first time the recruits that formed Company 35A (officially " _Class 1-35A_ ") would spend time training with other recruit companies at Providence Base. There were also some career trainings which took place in secure extranet-connected rooms to provide one instructor, located on Providence base or possibly in other Systems Alliance facilities, to instruct hundreds or thousands of recruits simultaneously. For some classes, such as Engineering 101/102 and Systems Alliance Military Theories and Tactical Applications, this instruction method produced a college-like atmosphere of recruits sitting in large lecture halls where the instructing officer may or may not be physically present. However, for smaller classes, this connected approach is invaluable as individual bases do not need to employ multiple, low-demand instructors for topics such as Theoretical Weaponry and Veterinary Medicine.

Recruits in the Systems Alliance were encouraged to choose a career path prior to arrival for Basic Training through their Recruitment Officer. There were two major career paths to choose from: Naval Track and Marines Track. Within each Track, most recruits then chose a specific occupation they wished to achieve during their seven-year enlistment period. However, not all recruits choose a specific career and are put through remedial career courses for the first two days of Career Week until being forced to pick an occupation within the Systems Alliance Armed Services.

Since specific occupations would have overlapping subjects regarding training and education, recruits destined for two separate career-path occupations would occasionally find themselves in classes together. This was put in place for the simple reason that not every recruit was going to be assigned to a cruiser or a dreadnought. Because of this, all Naval Track recruits were given remedial instruction and practical operation training in two or three different fields.

Specifically to Deckard, and his dream to be a Naval Steward, that meant instruction in Piloting and Combat Medicine.

His pilot training was not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Deckard found the classes on historical flight rather boring but thoroughly enjoyed his time during simulation runs. Of course, this may have been helped by the fact that Bianka Seager was training to become a full-time pilot. And whether Deckard wanted to admit his feelings to his squad or not, having a burgeoning relationship with a 19 year old girl was very flattering for the 16 year old kid from Fredericksburg, Virginia.

He was finishing up his latest docking simulation training module when he heard a knock on the simulator apparatus behind him.

"Grabbing a bite to eat Chef, wanna tag along?" Bianka asked with a toothy grin.

 _A great, beautiful toothy grin_. Deckard thought before he gathered his belongings and tagged along without a word. He liked these times with Bianka the most since they could just talk without having to always deal with interruptions from their squads in more generally populated areas.

"So how'd it go in there Chef?" Bianka prodded, using her own nickname for him.

"I'm not a chef…"

"Yet," the older girl interjected.

"Yet. But it went fine," Deckard answered. "I have one more training module for Citadel docking and then I'm afraid that's it for piloting classes." Deckard ran a hand over his buzzed hair. "I hope my ship assignment isn't in desperate need of a competent helmsman."

Bianka pushed him playfully. "Awww, don't sweat it Chef. After a couple months shadowing the helmsman and piloting a ship during fourth watch, you'll pick it up."

"Says the woman with supernatural combat skills. I saw your last two training vids, Bianka. That's some top level flying. Have they..." Deckard dropped his voice to a whisper. "Have the Corsairs come calling?"

"Why are you whispering?" Bianka replied in equally hushed tones. She returned to her normal volume. "No, moron." She raised a finger as Deckard opened his mouth. "Just because Queen has connections doesn't mean everyone else who has money has the same privileges."

"Well, we only know that her father got her information on the last scenario and that she got me to ask you to go along with it." Deckard shrugged as he continued his babbling. "I just assumed you were both 'in the know' as they say."

Bianka stopped and pulled Deckard off to the side of the hallway. "First, who says 'in the know' anymore? Second, why bring this up now?"

Deckard tried to keep his emotions in check but, judging from Bianka's reaction, he must have given her what could only be described as puppy-dog-eyes. "I'm just...concerned about...you. You know?"

"Awww," was all Bianka said in response.

"Oh stop it," Deckard retorted as he began to walk down the hall, forcing Bianka to catch up. "I can't be concerned where my friends are going?"

"She hasn't told you." Bianka stated.

"I...what? That has nothing to do…" Deckard looked up at the beautiful and commanding girl next to him doing her best to look at him in a way to get what she wanted. "No. She hasn't told me what went on afterwards," Deckard spit out.

"Buck up Chef," Bianka punched him in the arm playfully. "From our last conversation it was 'need to know.'"

"And I still haven't heard from you exactly how that went."

Bianka patted him on his shoulder. "And right now, you never will."

"Right now? I am really considering having Dario become my _best_ best friend again." Deckard grumbled.

"Yeah right. You don't want to be friends with this?" She said as she waved a hand up and down her body. The motion, and implication, caused Deckard to blush, which brought a laugh out of Bianka.

They walked in silence until they neared the chow hall.

"How is the country boy doing?" Bianka asked quietly.

"Better, now that he knows he won't get kicked out." Deckard replied with a thin smile. "I get the feeling a lot is riding on getting out of Basic. With anyone else I would tell them not to worry. But, well, it's Dario."

Deckard's best friend had a learning disability which everyone in Echo squad pretty much understood to be a severe case of dyslexia. Dario swore up and down that it wasn't dyslexia though and they didn't have the heart to try to correct him. This had caused all sorts of problems during Hands-On week and had come to fruition immediately upon the start of Career week as well.

Dario wanted nothing more than to be an engineer. By his own acknowledgement, though, he never had the aptitude for such advanced work. Deckard suspected it had more to do with Dario's homelife back on his parent's corporate farm back in Arkansas. While he had been giving a pass during recruitment to join the Systems Alliance, his career instructors were not so forgiving.

Dario had come back to the barracks after the second day of career classes despondent. While he hadn't shed any tears it had taken first Deckard and, after she arrived twenty minutes later, Camille to figure out what the issue was.

The brass had given Dario and ultimatum: ship out or join the Marines.

It said something about Dario's personal fear of being a grunt that his friends spent two hours trying to convince him to switch to the Marines Track. Ultimately he _had_ decided to switch and Dario Marmont was still in Basic.

After grabbing their food, Bianka and Deckard set up across from each other at their normal table. Bianka turned on her omni-tool and set a twenty minute timer. Their first lunch after Squad Tactics week went on for an hour before they both realized what had happened. Since then, Bianka, being the responsible one, had set a timer so they wouldn't lose track of time talking to each other again.

"So," Bianka piped up as she corralled some of the substance that passed for food onto her fork. "How's cooking going? Make a meatloaf yet?"

Deckard stopped mid-chew and glared at her. He took another two bites and swallowed. "Yes Bianka, we made meatloaf," Deckard said as he rolled his eyes. "You laugh about my career choice but when your ass gets back from strikes on a Batarian cruiser you'll be thankful that there's a steward who is going to get you some damn good chow." He took another bite with a smug grin on his face.

"I only want one steward to chow on something," Bianka said with a seductively raised eyebrow.

Deckard choked a little on the food in his mouth at the implication but managed to get it down alright. He took a hurried drink of water. "That was **not** funny," he said with a scowl before he took another drink of water.

Bianka let out a melodic laugh. "You should have seen your face, though. Oh wait!" Bianka gave a look of mock surprise. "You _can_ see your face!" She turned around a datapad she had hidden on her lap and showed him a picture of his face as he choked on his food.

"That was low, Bianka," came a familiar voice from behind Deckard. "I would have gotten him while he gasped for air after swallowing." Cami Wilmot set herself down somewhat primly next to Deckard.

"Queen," Bianka said as a greeting.

"Ugh, I told you not to call me that."

"Yeah, but everybody calls you that." It was the other squad leader's only justification.

"They do not!" Cami exclaimed. "Deck, tell her you don't call me that."

"Bianka, I don't call her by that nickname." Deckard said in a monotone voice.

"But you don't correct me when I call her that," Bianka said with a wink.

Deckard got a light slap on his shoulder. "Deck! You said you would help stop it!"

"How can I stop it Cami?" He turned in his chair to face his squad leader. "Once Bianka heard Dee call you by that name, well...Let's just say it turned into a wildfire."

"Why do I even eat with you two?" Cami questioned as she tore a piece of bread apart.

Bianka shrugged. "Deck's learning how to cook meatloaf."

"I am learning how to secretly put laxative into a certain someone's coffee without them noticing," he said with a smug look on his face.

"Ha. Ha." But Bianka smelled her coffee anyways. "Wait, is it supposed to smell like shit?"

"Yes," Cami and Deckard said in unison.

"Then I'm good."

Cami rolled her eyes as Deckard let out a small laugh. The three traded stories about their classes, Cami was enjoying her Advanced Drive Core Theory class, one of the top classes in Engineering. Deckard was finally able to tell the two girls about his success at turning two near expiration MREs, one Asari, one Human, into an edible stew using only a field hotplate. Bianka ended the quick lunch by retelling how she just missed beating some old pilot time trial record that was set by a recruit at Arcturus Station several years ago.

A short time later loud buzzing from Bianka's wrist signalled the end of lunch.

"Twenty minutes are up Chef," Bianka said as she stood up. "Wanna walk me to my next stop?"

"I have some down time I was hoping to catch up on-"

"I said: walk me to class." Bianka loomed over the boy's chair.

"Yes, Bianka." Deckard replied with a sigh. "See you later tonight Que-" Deckard had to skip to one side to miss the punch Cami threw at his groin. He could hear her angrily shoving things into her small backpack as he and Bianka walked away.

A four minute walk brought them to back to the building that housed the Flight and Fire and Control classes. Bianka leaned her right side against Deckard's left side. The action was the closest either would dare get under the scrutiny of Basic Training.

Bianka gave a soft slap to the back of Deckard's neck before standing straight again.

"Until next time, my Chef." Bianka said with a small grin as she began to walk away.

"Wait...what's this 'my' talk?" Deckard said to no one in particular.

* * *

 _11-02-2176, Saturday_

 _Four days before Graduation_

For the 35th Systems Alliance Basic Training Regiment of 2176, the recruits time at Providence Base was almost over. This was their last free day before three hectic days getting prepped for the Graduation Ceremonies and receiving their orders for at least the next 7 years of service. Eight weeks of regimented life was only the beginning of their service to Earth and Humanity.

Which is why make-shift parties were sprouting up throughout the day. Those who dared, snuck alcohol onto base. Those who knew better attended off-site parties at houses or on boats out in the bay. The members of Echo squad were keeping a low profile.

Paulo and Dee were sitting on Paulo's bunk, relaxing. Deckard was checking and rechecking his omni-tool for any orders he might receive. Cami and Dario were busy with their heads together over the squad's extranet terminal.

"Deck, it's not going to magically appear now that you have checked it for the twentieth time!" Dee yelled from across the room.

"What?" Dee looked up confused. "It has not been twenty times." His eyes wandered down to his wrist again.

"Twenty-one," Paulo corrected. "And yes, it has. What do you think Dee and I were doing for the past 10 minutes?"

"So? I'm a little anxious that's all."

"Where's your girl going?" Dee held up a hand. "And don't tell me she's not your girl."

"She's not my girl and she hasn't told me yet, but I know she got it. I wonder if she takes joy in stringing me along?" Deckard said with a pout.

"Aww kid, you really are dense aren't you?" Paulo said with a laugh. He picked up a pillow and tossed it at Cami and Dario.

"Hey!" Cami called out as it hit her square in the back of the head.

"What are you lovebirds up to?" Paulo asked. Cami turned around and glared at the imposing man.

"We're finding the appropriate parting gift, for all of us." Dario responded without looking up from the terminal.

Deckard's face scrunched together in confusion. "Parting gift?"

"Yeah!" Cami bubbly responded. "Tattoos!"

Dee let out a loud groan. Paulo shook his head and laughed. Deckard immediately threw up his hands.

"No way Cami. Bianka said I had to meet her to go to an off-base party."

Cami rolled her eyes. "You poor child. We're all going to the same off-base party. I'm putting it on."

"What?" Deckard said, confusion reigning again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you yesterday," Dario nonchalantly said as his eyes never left the terminal.

"What? I was cramming for my cooking final when you and I were both in here! I didn't hear anything you said."

"Not my problem."

"Yeah well, you can count me out too, Queen." Dee added.

"Nope, you're going with too." Paulo stated before Cami could respond.

Dee gave her boyfriend a very dirty look. "'Cuse me?"

"You're coming Jonesy. I can pick you up if I have to." Dee stared at Paulo for a moment before sighing and throwing her hands over head in resignation.

"Yay!" Cami cried out with a smile and a clap of her hands. "One last Echo squad mission!"

Dee was climbing out of bed when she stopped and glared at the other girl. "I'm reconsidering."

"Too late! Aircar is on its way."

Echo squad gathered themselves and made it to the base's guest departure pads. Deckard started towards a plain red aircar parked in front of the entrance gate before Cami called out to him.

"Deck! Where are you going?"

Deckard spun around and looked at the group. "To the aircar."

Cami pointed to the only other car on the pad. It was a sleek, black, stretch airlimo with a heavily reinforced body. Deckard flushed as he meekly walked back to catch up with his squad.

As they neared the airlimo the door swung up and a beautiful Asari in a fashionable designer pant suit stepped out. Her skin was the color of a summer's blue sky. On her cheeks were tasteful, white, symmetrical designs invoking artistic flowers. Everyone but Cami stopped dead in their tracks. Deckard once again wondered if this was really their ride. Those thoughts were dashed when Cami squealed, literally squealed, with delight.

"Daresa! I didn't know you would be here!" Cami yelled as she crushed the Asari in a huge hug. Daresa looked a little taken aback but smiled as she eventually returned the hug.

"Your grandfather wanted to make sure you would be safe." The alien woman said as she separated herself from Cami's embrace and held her at arms-length. "Don't be rude. Introduce me, little bee."

"HA!" Dee called out. "I knew it!"

Daresa gave Cami a confused look, which made Cami flush.

"That's Dee Jones. Pay her no attention Daresa. The big guy next to her is Paulo Fraser. Then we have Dario Marmont and finally this is Deckard Russell. Echo squad, this is Daresa U'Rona. My family's umm…"

"I have worked with Camille's family for 15 years as their tutor and advisor." Daresa finished with a wonderful smile. "Now, I believe time is being wasted. Please," she motioned to the waiting airlimo as its back doors swung up to reveal the spacious interior.

Echo squad clambered into the back and relaxed on the beautiful leather chairs. As Dario settled himself in next to Cami he made mention of the wonderful leather.

"It's from Eden Prime," Daresa said as she sat down in the front seat and began entering the necessary commands to bring air traffic control on line and plot their route.

"Eden Prime?" Dario said. "All they have are gas bags."

"Yes, they do. It took a lot of them." The Asari answered as she pulled the vehicle into the air and away from the military base.

The recruits settled into their seats again as conversation picked up about what exactly they were going to get tattooed. Dario excitedly pulled out a small datapad and linked it to his omni-tool to bring up a design.

"I think this would be great!" He showed them a gaudy image of a stylized human skull set in front of a red triangle and what looked like metal spikes framing the sides of the skull. Above the skull was the word "DEATH" written in all capital letters. "Would you like to know more?" He asked the group.

"No. God no!" Dee exclaimed.

"Dario, is this the best you could find?" Deckard gently asked as he took the datapad in his hands.

"I like it! Gives off an air of 'We're gonna fight and we're gonna win!'"

"I think I'm gonna jump out of this airlimo." Dee protested again.

Cami put a hand on Dario's arm. "Dario. Just no, hon." She took the datapad from Deckard and sent her own image to it. "I like my own designs." Daresa cleared her throat from the front of the vehicle. "Fine, _our_ designs." She stuck her tongue out at the alien. Cami gave the datapad to Dario to pass around as she explained the images.

"So I wanted images that meant something to each of us. Being Echo squad, I chose the base pattern of three sound waves on each side framing an individualized picture for each of you. Dario gets a cowboy hat," she squeezed his hand, "Dee you get crossed Kesslers. Paulo, an angry bull's head…"

"Bacon?" Deckard cried out as he looked at his image on the datapad.

"It was Camille's idea." Daresa chimed in from the front seat as the vehicle began its descent.

Cami looked at Deckard bashfully. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

Deckard manipulated his omni-tool quickly as the airlimo was brought down at the landing pad. He let out a frustrated sound as he stepped out off the vehicle. "Gotta wait for the data packet," he informed no one in particular. "Hopefully it will be here when it's my turn."

The rest of Echo squad finished exiting the vehicle. They waited for Daresa to join them before walking into the bustling shopping mall. They saw many recruits from Providence Base milling about. Most were in the food court with having a first meal in moderate privacy with their significant others. The squad arrived at the tattoo parlor and were queued to the back of the line after another squad from base.

"You Humans and your customs." Daresa said with a grin and a laugh. "I'll never get tired of learning more and more about Earth's customs and mores."

"Hey love!" A beefy recruit at the front of the line called out. "Stop flirting with those rejects and come over here for some of the good stuff." He punctuated his cat call with a rude gesture, some of the recruits around him, all male, laughed.

Cami clenched her fists and was about to respond when she stopped short as Daresa seductively walked up to the recruit.

"Seems you've been partying already sailor," the Asari cooed as she reached an arm around his waist. "Had a little to drink?"

"Enough to know I like where this is going!" The recruit bent down to kiss the alien.

His face ended up on the ground a split second later, with Daresa holding him in an armbar and her knee on his back.

"Looks like you've had enough to drink."

Blood began stream out of his nose. "Agghh! You broke my nose you damn bitch! Don't you know I'm in the Marines?"

"I know you are four days away from graduating, _recruit_. I also know unwanted sexual advances on any species aren't taken too kindly by your superior officers." Daresa wrenched his arm a little bit more up his back. "Now apologize."

"Aaggghhh! I apologize! Let go of my arm! You'll dislocate it!"

"Probably." Daresa tugged again and an audible pop was heard along with more cursing. A small crowd was beginning to form. Daresa looked at the idiot's friends. "Clean him up and get him to the base infirmary."

Three men nodded and quickly picked up their fallen friend. As they led him away his moans carried back to Echo squad.

Daresa stood up, brushed off her hands and clothes and walked to the front of the line. "Looks like we're next."

Cami looked rather pleased but everyone else in Echo squad was dumbstruck. Dario spoke first.

"That was tougher than a boar fight!"

"What. The. Shit?" Paulo said in awe. He nudged Dee with his elbow. "Jonesy, did you see that?"

"Stop it Paulo. I saw it." Dee caught Cami's eye. "Some tutor."

"The best her family can afford," Daresa stated without looking back. As she stepped into the parlor she gave them a playful look across her shoulder. "And they can afford a lot."

After another five minutes all of Echo squad was in the tattoo parlor. The shop was immaculately clean and had three bays set up with a tattoo artist manning each. Cami sent the information for each person's tattoo to their respective artist. Dario, Paulo, and Dee went in first.

As Dee was sitting down in her chair she gave Cami a sly look. "Queen? You haven't showed us _your_ design."

Cami blushed a little. "Well that's, uhhh." Cami bit her lip.

Daresa poked her head around the partition shielding Dee's chair. "It's a crown, of course," she said with another beautiful smile.

A triumphant grin spread across Dee's face as she leaned back into the chair. "I **knew** it. I _knew_ it."

The artists were professional and had everything done within 20 minutes for Dario and Paulo. Dee's took the longest since she wanted everything to be perfect on the pistols. She was done 15 minutes later. Cami had gone under the needle with a little apprehension after Dario and was finishing up.

The only person still waiting was Deckard. As Cami stepped out, trying not to rub her right pectoral where her tattoo was, she gave an exasperated sigh at the boy.

"Come on Deck. It's the bacon or nothing."

"Ahhh, no. I got my image thank you." He sent the image to an open bay and had the artist pull it up on his display terminal.

The image was of two interlocked antique door keys placed on their tips above two feathers laying on top of each other.

"What the hell?" Dario said as he tried to make sense of the image.

"It's the old United States Navy Culinary Specialist insignia," Deckard explained proudly. " _Much_ better than bacon."

The artist in the booth gave a laugh as he slapped the chair to get Deckard to sit down. "I'm thinking about 30 minutes," the artist said.

"Don't forget the echo sound waves," Cami chimed in.

Thirty-five minutes later Echo squad had their shirts pulled down to get a good look at their new tattoos. Well, Paulo had his shirt completely off and was garnering looks from two local girls before Dee gave them a deadly look.

"Alright maidens, back to the airlimo," Daresa said after she waited long enough. "Off to the party, bee?"

Cami flushed again. "Of course Daresa."

"Dressed like that?" The Asari asked with a raised eyebrow.

" _Yes_ Daresa. This isn't a formal engagement."

"You can never be too overdressed."

"Let's go." Cami huffed as she pulled Daresa out of the store.

The rest of Echo squad followed and in no time at all they were back in the limo and cruising over Providence as the sky began to turn orange. Cami had given up some pretense and had a hand on Dario's thigh as they sat next to each other. She reached out with the other hand and hit Deckard on his shoulder.

"I said do you know when Bianka is coming?"

"No. Sorry, just…"

"Aww shit Deck, getting sappy again?" Paulo said with a bark of laughter. "Damn dude, it's Basic. We graduate, we get on with our lives killing pirates, slavers, and Batarians." He squeezed Dee's hand. "Hell, be happy. We may not see each other again. Best to have some good memories."

Everyone turned to look at Paulo. He gave them a small smile. "Dee's uh, she's made me take the meds I hadn't been taken when I first arrived."

"Damn straight," his girlfriend snapped. "You'll be taking them or I'll go AWOL just to put my foot up your ass."

"I thought you liked me putting- OW! Dammit Dee, that hurt!" Paulo rubbed his hand where Dee had dug her nails into his palm. "Dee, there's blood!"

The only response Cami could manage was "Ew." She regained her composure as the airlimo started to descend once again. "The big guy is right, Deck. Enjoy this now. Who knows what the next seven years are going to bring? Obviously, probably war with the Batarians or the Turians, but ya never know."

The airlimo touched down outside a one-story house in an upscale neighborhood. The lights were all turned on and Deckard could see people hustling about through the windows.

As they entered the house a few more people dashed by as they set up a small bar in the opulent kitchen. He could also hear the sounds of glasses clinking together. As he rounded the corner into the living room he saw a table set up with about thirty glasses, waiting to be filled with...well anything really.

Cami came up beside him. "Pretty cool, huh? You know I used to despise this sort of stuff in high school. Now it's pretty handy."

"What's pretty handy?" Deckard asked. He was answered by a slap to the back of his head.

"Being connected and rich, Chef." Bianka had a big grin and was only wearing a military-issued sports bra with PT sweats.

Cami's cough/laugh brought the realization to Deckard that he was staring at Bianka's… everything.

"Dressed up Bianka?" Dee said as she grabbed a glass and poured herself an Asari wine from the bar.

"You know it Dee. And it seems to have worked," Bianka giggled as she draped her arm around Deckard's shoulders. "Come on Chef. Your first assignment is in the backyard."

About twenty recruits showed up, mostly from Echo's recruit company. It was a lowkey, alcohol-fueled party. At times the situation looked to be getting out of control until Daresa appeared at the right moment to end any thoughts of a wild night where cops would inevitably be called.

Deckard had just finished in the bathroom when he ran into Bianka. To Deckard it seemed a little too coincidental as he had just seen her walking out to the backyard before he went to relieve himself. The girl smelled of apricot and salt and it was definitely working its effects on the young man.

"Sorry Bianka I didn't see you there."

Bianka took a step back to look at him before lunging in and planting a deep kiss on his lips right in the hallway. A cough from someone wanting to use the bathroom found Bianka picking her smaller partner off the ground and, still kissing, bring him back to a bedroom.

"Well that was fun. Never had that happen to me before." Deckard rambled as Bianka shut and locked the door. The click, _a nice antique touch_ thought Deckard, made him pause. He looked at Bianka standing in front of the bedroom door. "So, uh…" Deckard wet his lips. "So…"

Bianka giggled. "You said that already Chef." Her eyes traveled up and down Deckard's body.

Deckard's eyes went wide as it finally dawned on him what was happening. Bianka's own eyes went wide as well.

"Deckard," she said with a seductive grin as she took a step towards him. "This isn't your first time, is it?"

"Well, uh. A...A gentleman never tells-" Bianka put a finger on his lips.

"Dumbass." She replaced her finger with her lips and placed Deckard's hands across her hips. "You okay?" She breathily asked.

Deckard tried to think but, he was only 16 years old. He felt Bianka's honed stomach muscles and let out a squeak at first as he attempted to answer. "Dumb," he got his voice under control. "Dumbass."

He let Bianka push him onto the bed and their teeth clicked together. They both laughed into each others mouth but that was cut off by another kiss initiated by Bianka. She worked her hands under Deckard shirt and he could feel her fingers on his own slightly muscled frame. They managed to work his shirt off somehow without breaking from their kissing and Deckard tried to expertly take off her sports bra. Unfortunately, Deckard ended up scratching her which killed the mood a bit. Bianka bluntly told him to let her lead if he wanted this to continue after that incident.

Deckard lost himself in the wonderful moment of their time together. He felt pure emotion as he felt that everything tuned out around him. All he good hear was the muffled laughter and talking from the rest of the party and the electronica beats emanating from the living room that were all the rage in the Asari Republics. He lost himself in his partner's passion for the experience. Her body felt wonderful against his and he thought their time together lasted an eternity.

Afterwards, laying there with the taller woman somehow curled up on his shoulder as she traced his new tattoo, Deckard felt pretty good.

"10 minutes, not too shabby for a virgin." _Until that_.

"I, um...thanks? You're welcome?"

"That'll do. I like your tat." Bianka said as she kissed it.

"It was Cami's idea."

"Bringing up another girl when you have a beautiful naked woman next to you is not acceptable, dumbass."

"There was nothing meant by it. I do like having your wonderfully naked body next to me."

"Awww, we should make the most of it." Bianka slid her hand down farther.

"Ohhh… Oh!"

"Shhh, dumbass."

It was quieter around the house when the pair finished again. Deckard felt thoroughly exhausted while Bianka still had a wild look in her eye.

"Bianka. Thanks."

"Thanks? Two times and all you can say is, thanks?" Bianka feigned being hurt by his words. "You really suck at pillow talk."

"Haven't done it before," Deckard said with a wink and a laugh. "Soooo I guess this it then?"

Bianka blew out a slow breath. "Deckard, you're a sweet kid. First person to to catch my eye in over a year." She blew out another breath. "Don't think this was just for kicks though. I don't sleep around."

"I didn't think that," Deckard stammered. Bianka giggled and put another finger on his mouth.

"I know. But, yeah. Probably not again Chef." Bianka sighed and began stroking Deckard's chest. "I am an heiress you know."

"Like royalty?"

She pinched him. "Dumbass. My family is Seager Medical."

"Ohhh." Deckard smiled. "Never thought I'd bed an heiress." He got pinched again.

"Pretty sure the heiress bedded _you_. Anyways, time for another reward." Bianka propped up on an elbow, an action that Deckard wholly approved of. "You asked me last week what Cami and I went through after the last scenario. Her family's connected into the UNAS government, right? Well, she was given information by her father on three upcoming projects that my family was getting the inside track on. Basically setting us up for the next thirty years or so."

"Wait, isn't that illegal?"

Bianka climbed on top of Deckard again and rested her head on his chest. "Apparently her family is _very_ connected. Admiral Hackett told me to leave before I found out everything."

"Admiral Hackett was there?"

"Shhh, enough about that old man and Queen." She began to slowly roll her hips against Deckard. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "One more time, my chef. Before I grab-and-go to the _SSV Einstein_."

"The _Einstein_? That's out in the Skyllian Verge!" Deckard let out a pained sound because of where she was going before Bianka's hips and her kisses cut him off and they made one more great moment.

* * *

 _11-06-2176_

 _Graduation Ceremony of Systems Alliance 35th Basic Training Regiment_

 _Providence Base - SA, Providence, Rhode Island, United North American States, Earth_

"Throughout our short time on the galactic stage, Humanity has fought for our place. For room to grow and thrive. The Systems Alliance took up the cause of Humanity when the Prothean ruins were discovered on Mars and the largest nations of Earth realized what was within and beyond the Sol System. While it took a war with our eventually allies, the Systems Alliance became _the_ voice for all Humans. While our borders may define a small portion of our galaxy, the Systems Alliance has always been willing to make inroads into the Traverse and Terminus when our sanctioned settlements are threatened. Be the threat other Humans, Turians, Batarians, or slavers and pirates.  
"For the 35th Basic Training Regiment you have spent the last eight and a half weeks being given the tools and training to succeed out in the galaxy. You must utilize these hard-earned gifts for Humanity's benefit. Their will always be something to turn you from the path of fighting for the Systems Alliance. Be it the death of a loved one, the death of a friend, or, sadly, the death of your soul. Remember the bonds forged in this providential fire. Remember your friends. The tears. The laughter. The pain.  
"We live in an unforgiving galaxy, where right is not always clear. To save a colony may hinge on your understanding of what you learned here: That Humanity lent us their sons and daughters to shape into warriors. Warriors who can choose the greater good of Humanity over the wants of personal desire or petty jealousies. If we lose sight of those goals, if we lose our Humanity to advance Humanity, we are nothing more than varren upon the galaxy.  
"Be ready at your assignments. While some may, thankfully, never see action. Others among you may face combat immediately. Remember, you have given yourselves the gifts we offered here to allow you to succeed. When the colonies and Humanity look for help, they will look to you.  
"I hereby proclaim the 35th Basic Training Regiment dissolved. Report to your assignments seamen and marines. Godspeed and dismissed!"

With Rear Admiral Hackett's order given, the recruits assembled in front of him cheered loudly and threw their dress covers into the air. The audience of friends and family also gave their own resounding cheer. Before dispersing recruits gathered to hug, to laugh, or to kiss one last time.

The former members of Echo squad trickled back to their old barracks where adults milled about outside, waiting to see their recruit. Deckard was the first back and got his pack from his old bunk. He gave the small barracks one last look before heading out to his parents. His mother was, of course, crying while his father had the biggest smile he had ever seen on his face.

Deckard was finishing a third hug from his mother as he saw Dario approach. The boy had his head down but was smiling, until he looked up and saw what could only be his parents. Their hard faces and plain clothes spoke to their rugged lives. Dario gave a nod to his father before heading to retrieve his own pack.

Cami came next, walking with Daresa, and only Daresa. Deckard could see the pained look on Cami's face as he pointed out his squad leader to his parents.

"Hey Cami, everything alright?"

Cami looked at him and managed a smile when she saw his parents. "Oh, everything's fine Deck. My father was held up in Vancouver. He sent me a message of congratulations though. And my grandfather sent me a vid message telling me how proud he was." The last comment brought a smile to her face. Daresa laid a hand on her shoulder in support.

Deckard heard Dario talking with his parents and turned around in curiosity only to catch his father staring at Daresa U'Rona. He gave his father a slight nudge in his stomach to get him to stop. His father only grinned and winked at Deckard while his mother slapped him on the shoulder.

Cami had stopped to listen to Dario's interaction with his parents. Deckard was surprised when he and Cami both took a couple of steps to stand behind Dario in support.

"Well you made it," his mother said rather begrudgingly.

"Damn shame you couldn't make more of yourself though, boy. Needed an engineer back home so I wouldn't have to pay those damn hacks out of Little Rock to fix the shit." His father sized up Dario before continuing. "Dammit boy, I _told_ you I needed your help. Didn't I?"

"Yes sir." Dario mumbled.

"Aww shit. Haven't learned a lick of respect out here in the east. Horse's shit load of good _that_ did you." The repugnant man continued.

Cami stepped next to Dario and held his hand.

"Who's this tramp?" His mother said with an edge.

"She's not a tramp mama."

"Don't talk back to your mother, boy." His father warned.

"Don't you **dare** talk to him like that!" Cami snapped in her squad leader voice. Deckard had last heard it during their final Squad Tactics scenario. "Your son is a Systems Alliance Marine. What have you done with your lives except tear down Dario and make him second guess his worth?"

Dario's father looked to say something but Cami cut him off again. "Have you ever faced the risk of taking up a job which may get you killed? Have you ever fired a Lancer rifle while facing three Asari commandos? Have you had to recover from a concussion sustained while helping your squad survive against 10 trained soldiers? Save your hatred for yourselves."

She turned on her heel, pulled Dario's face down to hers, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Dario resisted at first and then hugged her tightly.

Deckard stepped up besides them and embraced both of them.

"Let them go, cowboy." Cami said into Dario's chest. She pushed her face out of his chest to look up at him. "Go be yourself. Go be a marine."

Deckard released them from their awkward three-person hug. Dario, still holding on to Cami, smiled as he looked into her eyes.

"Aye aye, ma'am."

* * *

 **End of Act I**

Next Chapter will start Act II which will bring us closer to the start of _Another Realm: Arrival_ which was the first story Katkiller-V wrote to bring us this wonderful universe.

 **Thank you for the continued support, views, favorites, and follows. Keep the reviews coming!**

* * *

 **A/N:** _HOLY CRAP! This chapter went on for far longer than I thought it would. But I decided I had stories to tell. I actually took out a conversation between Deckard and Dario alluding to his horrible home life. Also, I really liked writing Bianka and Daresa U'Rona (who was supposed to be an unnamed Asari butler/bodyguard just present after graduation) for some odd reason. Maybe I don't have Katkiller-V's fascination with always writing strong-willed women but hopefully I did her justice...or shit, maybe I_ **do** _have the same fascination?  
_ _Hopefully sex sells. I hear it's what all the kids like these days. Now, I have to go shower off after writing_ THAT _scene. Compared to Katkiller though, it was pretty benign._

 _And before anyone complains, the Mass Effect Universe is not our universe. I fully understand the implications of a 16 year old and 19 year old in a sexual relationship together. And yes, if their genders were reversed, I would write it the same way._

 _To help those still looking for last chapter's pop culture reference: it's in one of the battle set pieces. I sincerely hope this chapter's reference was smacking you in the face as you were reading it._

 **A/N/N** : _I wrote most of this listing to Tobu on YouTube. Awesome stuff._

* * *

 **Review Responses**

 _Legendary Junk Mail_ \- Thanks for your continued reviews and I'm glad that this all makes much more sense. I'll probably go and re-edit the other chapters for better accessibility.


	6. Interlude A: The Otaka Window

**I don't claim ownership of Mass Effect.**

* * *

 _Set in the Another Realm Universe created by Katkiller-V. Approximately one year before the start of his series._

 _Again, this is three years after Act I._

* * *

 **Interlude A**

The Otaka Window

 _04-25-2179_

 _SSV Shetland, On System Approach_

 _Colony of Ontarom, Newton System, Kepler Verge, Attican Traverse, Milky Way Galaxy_

* * *

 **Codex Entry: The Otaka Window / The Lone Patrol**

Named after Dr. Mohindra Otaka, a noted Systems Alliance mathematician, The Otaka Window is the name given to a regularly occurring interval of time where only one Alliance vessel is assigned to patrol the Newton System for a period of 2 to 7 days. The Otaka Window was the solution of a joint government/civilian research project after the Systems Alliance settled the planet Ontarom in the Newton System, located within the Kepler Verge. Due to the locations of charted primary and secondary mass relays and the time/range limitations of traditional FTL travel, the Alliance Navy found that their patrol force dispensation was not conducive to maintaining a permanent, strong presence within the Newton System.

In the ensuing months the Newton System would go weeks without a patrol due to the rotational schedules devised by the Alliance's usual VI-assisted programs. The threat of unchecked raids on the strategically important colony of Ontarom led the Systems Alliance to work with Dr. Mohindra Otaka and his team at the University of Tasmania. Dr. Otaka was a leading figure in the mathematics world and accepted the challenge. After four months of intense study and the modification of the Alliance's own main VI to near-sentience, the team was able to eliminate the lack of patrols within the system.

However, the drawback became that once every 5 to 7 galactic standard months only one Alliance vessel would be assigned to patrol the Newton System. This "lone patrol" period would itself last anywhere from two to seven days. Dr. Otaka and his researchers claimed it was the best solution, unless the Alliance wanted to build a small fleet solely to patrol a small sector of space. The cost/benefit analysis run by the Systems Alliance Finance Committee agreed with Dr. Otaka's research findings and allowed his new schedule, with its lone patrol window, to be implemented.

Each new Otaka Window is only made known to affected Alliance vessels, the fleet admiral for affected vessels, and the marine garrison commander stationed on Ontarom. Calls from proactive elements within the Alliance Navy have continually called for a review of The Otaka Window. These officers demand increased spending from the Systems Alliance to provide more adequate coverage for the colony, noting its potential vulnerability, despite the near-randomness of the window occurring in patrol rotations.

* * *

Deckard Russell leaned back against the bulkhead in the small galley aboard the _SSV Shetland_. While the _Shetland_ was only a corvette assigned to the 53rd Scout Flotilla, part of the Eighth Fleet, Deckard loved his one and only assignment since leaving Providence Base. The vessel had a small crew of ten naval personnel and took on just one recruit every three years.

From Deckard's three years serving under Captain Ares Malonta, a lifer who joined the Systems Alliance after Grissom and his team returned through the Charon Relay, the young serviceman from Virginia couldn't have dreamt for a better assignment. Captain Malonta knew his place in the Systems Alliance Navy and said that being a captain was his lifelong dream. That he commanded only a corvette after 10 years of being promoted did little to dampen his spirits. The man loved his vessel and he was always good to the crew.

Deckard closed his eyes a little and rested his head against the warm metal. The _Shetland_ was nearing the end of its FTL jump to reach the mass relay that would take them to Newton and needed to discharge its mass effect drive. He jolted his eyes open as metal clanged against metal in front of him.

Bent over at the waist reaching for something on the floor was 1st Lieutenant Bridgette Lucci, the ship's 27 year old Infowar officer. She was a colonist raised on Eden Prime and the ship's resident computer nerd.

"Lt. Lucci! My apologies, ma'am." Deckard spluttered as he bent to pick up the serving spoon that had fallen, only to bang his forehead against the back of Bridgette's head. They both cried out in pain as another clatter hit the floor.

"Deckard!" Bridgette cried out in pain. She straightened herself out after picking up her interface visor. She examined the visor before shooting Deckard a look. "How many times, Deck?"

"Sorry, ma'am. Uh, Bridgette."

"Deck, I'm only eight years older than you. You've been on the _Shetland_ three years. Three! When was the last time I allowed you to address me as Lieutenant Lucci?"

"The first time we met."

"And what did I say?"

"To never call you that again." Bridgette ended up saying the words with Deckard as he repeated them for what seemed like the millionth time. She gave a last look at her visor and put it back on.

"Sorry lieu- Bridgette. I guess I like to show you respect."

"Maybe he just likes getting you frustrated?" said a quiet male voice from over the counter. Serviceman First Class (S1C) Cedric Gray tried to put on his best Gallic smile but his shifting eyes spoke of the insecurity beneath.

Cedric was a 22 year old spacer, someone who was born and grew up aboard starships and space stations. He had been raised solely by his reclusive parents until they abandoned him on Arcturus Station at the age of 13. The man had been apprehensive around people ever since then but joined the Alliance Navy the same year as Deckard because, as he eventually explained, ' _I had to eat and was a horrible thief_.'

This was Cedric's second assignment. His old vessel was decommissioned after a vicious pirate attack left it unfeasible to be repaired. Now he served aboard the _Shetland_ as the Engineering Serviceman, meaning he reported both to Bridgette and the Chief Engineer, Operations Chief Wendy Kolthani.

"Deckard would _never_ do anything untowards to me," Bridgette replied. She began to peruse the food from that night's dinner. "He's like a little brother and doesn't have an indecent bone in his body."

"I wouldn't say that," Deckard corrected. "I once put one of my female squad members in an armbar in Basic during a fight." He looked between the two of them. "I mean, I got kneed in my crotch for it. But still, I wasn't a gentleman."

Bridgette shook her head and finished plopping some refried beans onto her plate.

"Do you want some beef?" Deckard asked as he spun a little in the cramped quarters to open the small oven.

"Mmmm, beef," she said in zombie-like voice. Bridgette took the proffered beef and headed to sit down in the small mess.

"Care for anything Cedric?" Deckard asked cheerfully.

"Uhhh...a little rice?" The man answered nervously before accepting the plate and walking off, probably back to Engineering.

Deckard began to clean up the galley while he waited for the rest of the crew to arrive for dinner when he heard two more of the crew approaching. The ship's Executive Officer and Communications Officer Commander Crockett 'Davy' Davidson walked into the mess talking with Wendy Kolthani.

Davy, at 29, was an up and coming officer within the Systems Alliance. He had been with the _Shetland_ for two years and had the respect of all those onboard, even the older crew members. That everyone called him by a nickname of an old American folk hero never bothered the tan-skin man born in Mexico City. He very well couldn't deny his parent's wry sense of humor in naming him.

Wendy was a quintessential gearhead and had been with the _Shetland_ for eight years. She would probably never leave for another assignment until she was promoted to an officer. Being a 33 year old NCO and a Chief Engineer was something not every Alliance ship or captain could offer.

"I'm telling you, Wendy, there are some things I don't like about this patrol," Davy said ominously.

"And I'm telling you, Davy," Wendy answered in her Indian accent. "I have been on The Otaka Window before. No worries." She gave the XO a smile before heading over to the counter to get a plate of specially prepared vegetarian refried beans Deckard had made for her.

"Deckard, you never forget."

"I try not to, Ops Chief," Deckard said with a nod and a smile.

"S1C Russell," Davy stated.

"Aye, sir?"

"Heavy on the beef, Deck."

"Aye aye, sir," Deckard said with a smile as he gave the commander two helpings of beef.

"Real beef or space cow?"

"Do you have to ask sir?"

"Shifty vacas," the commander replied warily as he took the plate and joined Wendy and Bridgette.

The next to arrive was S3C Jianyu Lin, the _Shetland_ 's newest crew member. Deckard liked Jianyu a lot. Although he was only a year younger than Deckard, Jianyu was always deferential to Deckard. The kid left Vladivostok in the Great Russian Democratic Federation to attend Bejing Base with a keen wanderlust and fanciful ideas of the adventures awaiting him in the navy. His time of monotonous service about the _Shetland_ had done little to dissuade him from his ideals of navy life.

"Ah, Serviceman Russell! I have been ordered by Dr. MacDonnell to relieve you and have you report with his dinner and your dinner to the Medical Bay."

"Thanks Jianyu." Deckard began cleaning off his hands and then pointed around the galley. "Beef is in the oven, refried beans on the pot, and Chief Kolthani's dish is warming on the hot plate."

"Very good! I will keep everything straight for the crew and clean up afterwards!"

 _How can a boy be that cheerful?_ Deckard thought. _Was I like this when I first arrived?_ He made up two plates and carried them out of the galley and down the corridor to the Med Bay.

When he entered he found Dr. Oliver MacDonnell, a 51 year old born-and-bred devout Irish Catholic who entered the Alliance as a second chance, working on his terminal. Dr. MacDonnell had never told Deckard his life story, only that this wasn't his initial career choice. Deckard noticed that the doctor hadn't noticed the door open behind him. Deckard quietly cleared his throat before talking.

"I have our food, Doctor."

"Ah, me lad," Dr. MacDonnell said as he pushed away from his desk and cleared datapads to make room for his meal. "Good timing. I was a wee bit famished. Let us look over more of ta new injury treatment reports from command."

"Uh, let's wait Doc. I gotta eat first," Deckard said with a frown.

"Ya need ta have the stomach to treat wounds in ta heat of battle, lad." Dr. MacDonnell said sternly. Still he relented and sat down as Deckard leaned against the bulkhead. Deckard was about to eat before he forgot, as he usually did, that the doctor always prayed before he ate. When Dr. MacDonnell's prayer was finished, they both dove into their food.

After the meal Deckard and the doctor went over the reports. Most contained information on attempts to deal with biotic damage and incendiary burns. Dr. MacDonnell explained the abundance of similar reports probably meant skirmishes with Asari pirates had been occurring more frequently.

The doctor always tried to help Deckard see beyond the information and pushed him to be more than just a naval serviceman doing his seven years. Deckard, on the other hand, always felt the doctor treated him like a son and he had not really taken to it. Deckard always tried to see the older man as a well-intentioned mentor. He had a father back on Earth, that was enough.

After looking over an actually interesting report on treating wounds from a biotic sword, Captain Malonta's voice crackled over the ship's speakers.

 _This is the Captain. We need an all-crew meeting on the bridge. Time to debrief on our newest patrol before we drop out of FTL and hit the relay_.

Deckard gathered up the plates, gave a nod to MacDonnell, and left as the man waved him away. Deckard rushed to put the plates back in the galley and found it cleaned up, just like Jianyu said it would be. He threw the plates on the counter and hurried back up to the bridge.

The _Shetland_ 's bridge was the largest space on the vessel, aside from Engineering. Deckard was the second to last to arrive, the bridge officers were already sitting at their stations. Wendy was standing besides Bridgette's Infowar station, Dr. MacDonnell stood just to the right of the CIC, while Jianyu was hanging out as close to the bridge entrance as he could.

Captain Malonta looked back at Deckard as the young man situated himself next to Gunnery Chief Luiz Walker, who was the _Shetland_ 's Fire and Control Officer. The hotheaded, 29 year old Aussie gave him a grim smile and went back to focusing on his station. Finally Cedric slowly strolled in, walking as if the something were about to jump out at him.

"Gray, walk a little faster next time," Malonta growled with his slight British accent, then waved off the spacer's apologies. The captain swung his chair back to face the prow of the ship and looked over the data on his multiple displays.

"Alright crew," he said after the short pause. "As some of you may be aware we are finishing up our time with the 53rd with one last patrol before we head back to Arcturus for shore leave and the old girl gets an overhaul. Bout time, I would say." Some of the older crew members voiced their agreement at the statement.

"But first we need to deal with Ontarom. This is made even better since we are slated for The Otaka Window. I think only Chief Kolthani and I have run the Lone Patrol."

"I got pegged once, sir." Lieutenant Francis Markov corrected from his place at the Helm. This would be Francis' last mission as he had finished his second tour of duty and opted not to reenlist.

"So let's go over the situation because we got the raw end of the stick this time. The Otaka Window comes about randomly every five to seven months and last from two to seven days. Well I'll give you one guess what that damned VI spit out for us?"

Even though it was a rhetorical question, Bridgette spun around in her chair with seven fingers held up, her spin took her right back to facing her work station.

"That's right Lucci, all seven blasted days we'll be alone above Ontarom. Now, the good thing is the window is random. Even if a pirate or slaver group would try a raid, they are paralyzed by the fact that they don't know when the rest of the patrol flotilla will arrive. So they are either bold and try to run by us or they just bugger out." Captain Malonta steepled his fingers together.

"On my last run eight years ago we traded shots with a Turian vessel. The spikes fled after we broke their barriers. Reports state the last Alliance patrol fought off a Batarian pirate squad of three vessels two days ago. So we should be in the clear."

The captain stood up in the CIC, causing everyone to look at him. "However, if we do run into anything during our seven days on patrol, we are to send a distress beacon if we feel endangered. The beacon will establish the position of the nearest Eighth Fleet ship and jump through the relay to reach a comm buoy out of system to send the signal. This is," he explained, turning to the three servicemen, "standard procedure to ensure that the beacon reaches an intact comm buoy just in the event if Newton's buoy was destroyed or hijacked. However, we also have to hope the beacon also has to survive the journey from Ontarom to the relay. Or the next patrol will find us battered and bruised at best."

Fear began to creep upon the faces of the servicemen and some of the crew who had not grasped the full implications of their situation.

"Of course," Captain Malonta continued, "that is the last resort. Aside from from the _Shetland_ , Admiral Tsatinga with the Eighth Fleet, and Commander Lionel Brennan, the 20th Frontier Division's CO stationed on Ontarom." He wrapped his knuckles on the armrest of his chair. It was his usual method of ending his debrief meetings.

"Captain, dropping out of FTL above Eletania," Markov called out.

"Alright, let's discharge and get the hell on our way."

* * *

 **Preview of Act II: Distress**

Chapter 1 - Demons in the Night

Chapter 2 - Perfect Storm

Chapter 3 - Through Darkest Day…

Chapter 4 - ...A Shining Beacon

 _Thanks for all the continued support. Be sure to ask any questions you may have. Don't forget to leave a review. Even if it's just to comment on The Otaka Window or if it's just to say Hi!  
_ _Thanks for the Follows and the Favorites as well!_

* * *

 **A/N:** _I actually wasn't going to do any interludes in my story until I realized that meeting and setting up the crew of the_ Shetland _was taking up A LOT of space in my proposed first chapter. So, here we are. As I wrote above, if you don't like The Otaka Window, let me know. But I think it isn't too far out there to believe that a statistical anomaly would exist in directing thousands of ships spread across a quarter of the galaxy where one system gets_ the raw end of the stick _, as Malonta said. Let me know your thoughts or how you would have done better. You can also hold judgement until you see what Act II brings._


	7. Act II: Chapter 1 - Demons in the Night

**I don't own Mass Effect, sorry everyone :/**

* * *

 **Act II: Distressed**

 **Chapter 1 : Demons in the Night**

 _04-30-2179_

 _SSV Shetland - In Orbit_

 _Ontarom, Newtown System, Kepler Verge, Milky Way_

* * *

The past four days had been about as monotonous as Captain Malonta said it would be above Ontarom. Upon their arrival from Attican Beta, the _SSV Shetland_ made contact with Commander Lionel Brennan of the 20th Frontier Division. Brennan had welcomed the corvette from his headquarters at Geiger, the site of the main Alliance communications hub on Ontarom.

Ontarom was a doomed colony, its moon's orbit was slowly decaying and had been for millennia. This caused the planet to still be habitable but produced wild electrical storms and tidal disruptions across the planet while slowly turning the planet into an oven. Yet the Alliance still found a use for the planet, much to the Asari Republics amusement at the supposed folly, and had installed numerous deep-space, pan-galaxy, and secondary broadcast hubs on the colony.

Hoping to profit from the mass relay connected system, a joint conglomerate of media corporations had begun work on their own, massive broadcast hub. The hub had spawned a worker's village around it named Lohse. The Alliance proved very amenable to the venture and had been working closely on the engineering aspects of the hub with the conglomeration in a prime example of how the civilian and military could work together.

All that meant to Deckard as he turned on the ancient, orchestral music in his sleeping pod, was that he had seen Ontarom's dull brown deserts for four straight days. It was not a thrilling sight. There were green areas here and there around river valleys and bodies of water but the planet had an average temperature of 58℃ (136.4℉). He had no wish to visit the colony.

Deckard climbed into the sleeping pod and checked the internal clock. The display read 2334 and he adjusted the alarm to wake up before his 0600 shift began. He took a huge sigh, reclined the pod for sleeping, and drifted off to the sound of Johann Sebastian Bach's _Sonata No. 1_.

…

Deckard woke with a start as the General Quarters Alarm blared into his sleeping pod. Before smashing the exit button he saw the time was 0135.

 _Never good!_ His mind screamed at him as his pod opened up, Jianyu's pod opening opposite of him as well, along with six other pods. Deckard immediately felt a shudder beneath his feet as his body seemed to move on its own to his storage locker and began pulling on his immaculately clean, and rarely worn, Hahne-Kedar Mantis armor. He heard Captain Malonta run by him without waiting to don his armor. Putting on the armor in 45 seconds, _drilling wasn't for nothing_ , his mind told him, he slapped his Kessler to his hip and his Avenger sniper rifle to his back. Jianyu was just getting the last of his armor attached as Deckard turned to go. The officers had run past Deckard five seconds before and Deckard told Jianyu to hurry it up as he sprinted towards Med Bay.

Another shudder made Deckard stumble as he reached Med Bay. Dr. MacDonnell was already there in his own light armor filling the compartments on his leg pieces with field medi-gel packs. He glanced behind him with a stern look in his eyes and tossed Deckard the three packs he was about to equip before gathering more.

"What's going on?" Deckard said as he opened up the small medi-gel compartment on his own leg piece.

"Damned if I know, lad. Cap'n in'nt about to call a drill now though. Not when we be on ta Lone Patrol." The ship shook badly again. "An' there be the shudders. Someone's tryin' ta hop on I tell you." The Doctor then began to load a collapsible emergency container with supplies.

Deckard looked at the doctor's back as he bent over. "Doc, where's your pistol?"

"I'm a doctor, not a marine, lad!" He scolded Deckard as he steady himself against his desk due to another shudder.

 _Deckard and Jianyu! Report to the bridge!_ Davy's voice broke over the ship's speakers.

"Git goin' me lad!" Doc called out as he tossed Deckard several more medi-gel field packets.

Deckard took off at jog and heard the alarms blaring before he even neared the bridge. The site that awaited made him come up short.

The bridge was bathed in red light and terminal displays flickered on and off. Each officer was frantically going over their terminals, only Bridgette and Davy were in their armor. Luiz had been on fourth watch so he had been here since the beginning manning the helm; the Gunnery Chief was now at his normal station.

"Solution ready, captain!" Walker called out in his Australian drawl.

"Blow the bastard apart!" Captain Malonta responded. He turned his head to see Jianyu enter behind Deckard. "Jianyu, take over FnC. Walker!"

"Engines disabled, captain!" Walker called out.

"Walker, suit up!"

"I'll give these clacker bats a run through first."

"That's an order, chief!" Malonta yelled back at him. Luiz entered in another firing solution before he stood up with a start and ran back to his locker. Jianyu slid into the FnC station and picked up as best he could from where the Gunnery Chief left the firing solutions.

Captain Malonta swung out a small haptic display terminal from the CIC. "Deckard, plot a flight plan to Geiger."

"Aye aye, sir." Deckard said. He began to work on a flight plan based on their projected path and noticed the data being fed into his terminal. "Five ships!"

Malonta gave gruff bark of laughter. "Four since Luiz took out-"

The captain never finished as a huge sound echoed from the bow of the ship and Deckard was thrown backwards into Bridgette's chair.

Davy spoke up from Comms. "Kolthani's reporting a direct hit, Captain! The drive's been damaged!"

"I'm getting strong lateral drift!" Francis Markov called out from Helm as Deckard began plotting the flight path again.

"Too much drift, captain. I...I can't get a solution. VI has nothing." Deckard informed his captain.

Davy chimed in again, "Ladar shows them rounding on us!" Luiz stomped onto the bridge and pushed Jianyu out of his station as Davy finished with his update.

"Lucci, fire the goddamned beacon!" _Aye, sir, beacon laun-  
_ "Walker, target the Turian lead vessel." _Aye, sir._  
"Kolthani, sitrep!"

 _Ares. She's done._ The Engineering Chief said through the ship's comm system. Deckard looked up from his terminal and saw unadulterated fear in Jianyu's eyes. Lucci spun her chair around to look for orders. A glance showed her systems displayed cascading alarms confirming the information.

"Lucci, beacon update?" Malonta growled out.

As Bridgette spun her chair back around and adjusted her visor with her left hand another explosion rocked the ship.

"Infowar down!" Bridgette yelled just as Davy informed the captain of the loss of comms.

Ares paused for a moment. "Abandon ship. Captain's order Zero-Foxtrot-One-Tango-Five."

The ship chimed with a happy VI message: _Captain's order logged and archived to black box_.

Malonta looked up at his crew. "I said abandon ship!" Jianyu ran out to the escape pod followed by Bridgette, leaving Luiz, Davy, Francis, and Deckard with the captain.

"Captain…" Davy said as a small explosion caused him to steady himself in his chair.

"The captain must go down with the ship, Davy. Francis, transfer helm control and get your ass off this ship!" Deckard heard Francis slam the panel in front of him and began the process to bring what was left of helm back to the CIC. "Luiz, Deckard, go with them, boys. No need for glory. Transfer FnC Luiz."

"Control transferred Ares," Francis said as he went to unstrap himself. He never completed the motion.

Deckard saw the flash and was thrown left against the captain's chair. When he looked up, helm was nothing but a blue mass effect barrier. A window onto the vastness of space. Malonta grabbed Deckard by his shoulder.

"Off the ship, Russell!"

Deckard stumbled out of the bridge with Davy's help, Luiz racing ahead of them. Deckard risked one last look back at his captain and saw Malonta put another barrier in place and slipped on an emergency breather before they rounded the corner.

"Come on serviceman!" Davy yelled. The commander looked at his omni-tool. "First pod is away and heading planetside. We need to move if we hope to regroup!"

Deckard willed his feet to move faster and soon he was able to jog with the commander the short distance down to Engineering and the escape pods. The destruction from the hit that took out the drive was horrible and Deckard wondered how they were even still drawing power from the drive, let alone moving.

Deckard was shoved into an escape pod with Wendy and Jianyu. As he sat down and strapped in, the commander swung himself in and slammed the hatch close in one motion. He pulled on his own straps.

"Pod 2 away captain!" Davy called out as he punched the jettison button with his fist.

As the pod rocketed down to Ontarom's surface, Deckard glanced up. 0148. Thirteen minutes for five ships to cripple the _SSV Shetland_. He leaned his head back, staring at the clock as a bright flash came through the pod's small hatch window. He cried out for his ship, his captain, and for Francis before the pod slammed into the planet's atmosphere.

* * *

"Wake up, Russell!" Davy yelled. Deckard then noticed the oven he was lying in. When his vision cleared, he saw his commander facing him while sitting...above him.

"Deck!" Davy yelled again. "Deck, I need you awake and out of here so we can get out of this pod!"

Deckard nodded and slapped the safety clasp to release his harness. He slowly leaned forward to rest on his knees, his head hitting Davy's knees. "Sorry," Deckard apologized opening the release lever and letting the hatch swing open to the right. The confused serviceman crawled out into the almost unbearable dry heat of a twilight desert. His suit's internal cooling kicked in immediately, which made it only moderately less unbearable. His open helmet was not helping keep the heat off him in the least.

Following him out of the pod was Jianyu. Deckard heard two thumps behind him, Davy and Wendy falling out of their seats in the lopsided escape pod. He was helped to his feet by Jianyu and steadied himself a moment before nodding his was fine.

"Lieutenant Lucci, come in," Davy said into his comms. He repeated the call twice before making some changes on his omni-tool and trying for Luiz. As the commanding officer continued his round of call outs to the remaining four crew members.

 _Francis! Captain Malonta!_ His brain did a somersault as the gravity of the situation hit him and he bent over and threw up his perfectly cooked, and now partially digested, Asari-inspired fish and vegetable stir fry. Wendy walked up behind him and rested a hand on his back and his finished spitting out the last of the vomit onto the ground. The stench from the food baking on the dry ground made him dry heave.

Wendy pulled him away as she gagged a little at the odious smell. "A little water, Deck." She pushed her canteen in his hand and he stood up and poured a small stream into his mouth without touching it. He swirled the water around in his mouth and handed the canteen back to Wendy as he spit it out.

"No thanks Deck, give me yours."

Davy walked up behind them with Jianyu in tow. "Finally raised Gidget," the commander informed them. He pointed off to Deckard's left over the growing shadows of the desert at a purple, shimmering line.. "They're only 2 klicks east in scrub brush. I set a triangulated waypoint that will only put us 5 klicks from Lohse. We're lucky we landed close to Lohse. Not much else around here."

The commander detached his Ariake Tsunami from behind his back and looked through the scope. "Russell, I can't see shit. Check your scope."

Deckard nodded, swung his Avenger around and let it expand from its collapsed transport configuration. Bringing the scope to his eye the image was distorted by heat waves but he could make out the brush. He told Davy as much.

"Alright squad, let's move out." The commander set a fast pace towards the rest of the crew, which left Wendy laboring to keep up as they neared the three-quarter mark. After walking 15 minutes the sun was beginning to lose it's fight with Ontarom's distant mountain ranges and the shadows grew longer. But they had reached the first waypoint and saw four forms working their way towards them. One was limping, but not badly.

Davy raised his rifle. "Smoke!" he called out in a loud whisper.

"Rain!" Bridgette's voice called back. "They haven't found us yet, Davy. Hopefully...Hopefully Ares rammed one of the bastards." Luiz Walker stepped beside her with his rifle leaning against his shoulder while Doc helped Cedric Gray down to the ground.

"The lad be flying it, commander. Just nee' ta rest an' let ta meds kick in," Doc explained.

"Doc, still unarmed?" Deckard asked.

"I hadn' time for 'n inner moral debate, lad!"

"Alright, we've got failing light and five clicks to Lohse. We need to activate our own beacon in Lohse and get on the comm to Geiger. Commander Brennan needs to know we made it off the ship. He should be able to tell us if the beacon was sent."

"Hooley dooley!" Luiz exclaimed slowly. Everyone looked at him and saw he was looking over their shoulders. The crew turned around and witnessed Thonal make its presence known above the horizon. Everyone took a step back at the sight in fear.

Thornal's moon had a decaying orbit, bringing it much closer than Luna was to Earth. The effect made one think of a massive, bright planet rearing back to squash the occupants below.

"Would you look at that," Deckard drawled in awe.

Three dots began to traverse the moon. "Ships!" Davy called out. "Seems their scouting for us. Stick to the brush and we can hopefully get some cover before their scanners ping us. Move out!"

Davy waited until Cedric was up and everyone was moving at a fast jog before taking the rear guard. Bridgette led the way, picking through and jumping over larger rocks in the brush. After two minutes the lieutenant stopped abruptly as the brush tapered off before her.

Davy jogged up to her and looked at his omni-tool. "Still 4.5 klicks to go. Lay down and set up a perimeter. Wait for them to pass."

The crew did as they were told and hit the ground to crawl under what little cover the short bushes in the brush could provide them. After a minute watching twilight give way to some eerie semi-bright moonlight, a ship passed over them, giving no sign if they had been detected.

Deckard angled himself to watch the ship with his rifle scope. He let out a curse when he saw the ship veer to the right and angle back. "We've been spotted, commander! The ship is making another approach."

Deckard heard rustling as Davy crawled to his position. The ship came overhead again and landed to their right.

The enemy ship and the Alliance crew waited, the vessel's hull outlined in the moonlight and it's engines glowing. After what seemed like a lifetime another ship came up from where Deckard's pod had crashed and landed next to its compatriot.

The hatches on both ships opened and disgorged their occupants. The pirates spread out into two separate skirmish lines. Davy, Luiz, Jianyu, and Cedric with their assault rifles and Deckard with his sniper rifle looked through their scopes.

"I count 13 Turians on the left," Luiz said into their comms.

"Ten on the right. Batarians?" Deckard said in confusion.

"Why are they working together?" Davy wondered out loud as he looked through his scope. "Munitions?"

After everyone checked in they had 14 overloads, 15 frag grenades, and 8 incendiaries among them. Davy thought through a plan of action as the groups began to push forward, searching. Even though the moonlight was bright, there was still just enough darkness that their barrel-mounted flashlights could be sweeping left and right.

"We can't take them all," the commander stated. "Need to hurt them to cause them to bunker down. They don't know where we are exactly. Give them enough pause and we'll have to try and run."

Davy did another recon of the lines. "Right, pirates. Deckard, find the Turian in charge, Luiz sweep to your right across the spike's line. Jianyu and Cedric sweep to the left across the Batarian line. I'll gun for the squint commander."

Deckard flinched a little, he had never heard the commander use the highly derogatory term.

Bridgette spoke up. "Overloads, commander? They are bound to be shielded."

"Can't. Light trail will give us away before we start firing. On my mark," Deckard heard little movements on the ground as aims were adjusted. "For the _Shetland_." Davy stated. "Mark."

The air exploded around them as crisp bursts from the assault rifles cut through the night air. Deckard fired off one round into the Turians head, only to see the spark and disintegration of the alien's shields. He lined up his shot again and spun the Turian around as the shot sprayed matter behind him.

Deckard swept to his right for Turians on that side of the line but instinctively ducked as mass accelerated grains ripped the air above him.

He started to hear Luiz's voice grow in a guttural yell as the main continued to feather his rifle, staving off overheating his weapon for as long as he could.

Deckard sighted again and put another round into the center mass of a kneeling Turian when he heard Jianyu's rifle go quiet. He risked a quick glance and saw Jianyu curse himself as he waited for the rifle to finish cooling off.

"They're all shielded!" Cedric yelled from his position. "They're pushing forward," the nervous man said with a crack in his voice.

"Gidget. Wendy. Two overloads, high vertical angle, target the Turian left and the Bat right! Cedric, stay cool kid. Gunners, we'll sweep across them again as before and then sweep back across the line. How many down?"

"I got two," Deckard answered. There was a moment of quiet from the crew as rounds started to kick up dirt in front of them.

"Fucking Terminus pirates," Davy spat. Wendy and Bridgette let the commander know they had the overloads ready. "Let 'em rip sailors."

Two discs shot out in high the sky and Deckard saw some of the pirates watch them rise up. He squeezed off another round into a hapless Turian on the right who was enjoying the light show. When the overloads detonated the crew opened fire again.

"One!" Luiz yelled from his position. " _Two_!" he called out louder. "THREE!" The crazed Aussie bellowed. Apparently the end of his kill count carried across the desert as the Turian rested back on their heels, expecting a counterattack.

Deckard heard a crack to his right and saw Cedric slump to ground. "Cedric's hit!" He called out.

"Doc, can you make it?" Davy yelled into the comms.

"Aye sir!" Dr. MacDonnell answered. The sounds of sliding scrabble reached Deckard's ears as the doctor threw himself down next to Cedric.

The pirates began to press again, only 1000 feet in front of the crew's line.

"He's dead, Davy," came Doc's mournful voice. "Clean through his skull. Lad didn't feel a thing."

"Shit," the commander replied. "Luiz. Luiz! Frag the line. Jianyu, you too."

The men whipped out the grenades towards the lines in a sidearm throw. Luiz's grenade landed right in the middle of the remaining eight Turians while Jianyu's fell short.

Deckard adjusted aim and fired on a kneeling Batarian. He swept his scope over the Batarian line and found five were left standing. The commander peppered the Batarians again and Deckard saw another fall.

"Spikes pulling back!" Luiz called out.

"Commander, Batarians are firing in retreat." Jianyu added.

"Up! Up! We need to get to Lohse!" As they jumped to their feet Wendy's voice came over the comm.

"Davy! Cedric?" Her voice labored as she was already running, per the commander's order.

"Can't Wendy, we need to move before reinforcements arrive!" He huffed out as he ran. The commander veered to the right, swiveled his hips and fired back to the pirates without breaking stride.

Dirt shot up in front of Deckard accompanied by another loud crack. "Sniper!"

"Run dammit!" Davy called out.

Deckard, with some difficulty, reattached his sniper rifle onto his back and detached his pistol from his hip. He hazarded a look back to judge where Jianyu was running. Seeing nothing behind him he fired off rounds towards the line.

The ground continued to fly up around them as the crew's training kicked in and they all moved in tight zig-zag patterns. It was an Alliance tactic that Deckard was surprised his mind was immediately able to remember from his training in Basic three years ago.

The gunfire slacked off as the Alliance sailors ran for their lives.

"How you doing, doc?" Davy asked as they ran.

"I'm. Too old. For this. Shit." Dr. MacDonnell labored out.

"Don't drop out now old man!" Bridgette yelled. The doctor didn't respond but everyone's footfalls continued on as before.

The crew crested a small hill, with Doc's protests confirming he was still with them, and Davy ordered everyone down the other side as he swung around and knelt to take in their situation.

"What is that?" Davy asked. Deckard saw Bridgette crawl back up the hill to the commander as he sat sucking in air.

After thirty or forty seconds, the officers slid down the sloped backside of the small hill. Davy took in heavy breaths, the exertion from the run catching up to him.

"I've got more bad news sailors," their commander said after several moments. "Storm's coming." He looked at his omni-tool again. "Synch up with me." Omni-tools flashed to life around him. "We've got three and a half klicks. About ten minutes of running. Doc?"

"I'll live."

"Looks like they are waiting for reinforcements, hatches are closed and no one is scouting. We need to make for Lohse now or we aren't going to ever reach it." Davy looked to his left and right. "I'm sorry about Cedric, let's not have his death be in vain."

Heads bobbed in agreement in the slowly dimming moonlight.

"Fucking storm," the commander said. "Ready? Luiz, to the rear. I'll take point. Move!" The crew took off again in a single line.

With his lungs and legs burning as he continued to churn them after running for what seemed like 30 minutes, Deckard and the rest of the crew saw the tall structure of Lohse's under construction communications hub loom before them. He then heard Davy's strangled yelling as he tried to make contact with anyone in the village over the Alliance comm network.

As they reached Lohse's outskirts they were greeted with lights to their faces from mounted flashlights.

"Halt!"

The crew skidded to a halt, Dr. MacDonnell went to his hands and knees gasping for air while Deckard, Bridgette, and Wendy bent over at the waste trying to fill their own lungs with air.

"What the hell?" the same voice, now bereft of any authoritative tone, said.

"Commander Crockett Davidson of the _SSV Shetland_!" Davy gasped out through heavy intakes of air. "Don't shoot!"

The lights were pointed away from the crew's eyes and boots came scuffling up to them. The faces in front of them were lit up for an instant followed by sizzling in the air.

The soldier commanding the five men saluted Davy. "Gunnery Chief Richard Tohlse, Commander." Another flash with louder sizzling came again. "We'll work this out at the bunker. Storm's kicked up the demons behind you."

Deckard heard Bridgette begin to cry as they were led into Lohse, the intensity of the charged sky seeming to grow with each step they took.

* * *

The seven surviving crew members of the _SSV Shetland_ were led to a small military barracks located in the heart of Lohse. The one-story, pre-fab building housing the village's platoon had three rooms. There was the large main room where all administration took place and two rooms situated at the back of the rectangular unit. One of the smaller rooms housed the marines, complete with a small galley and mess area, the other was used as a makeshift storage and brig, if necessary.

The crew entered and everyone except for the commander spread out in the main room and sat on the floor, letting their exhaustion overtake them, leaning their backs against the wall. Wendy was with Bridgette, consoling her over that morning's events. Deckard took off his helmet and let his head rest against the wall, allowing the cooled surface to help regulate his body temperature.

While Davy was showing the same signs of exhaustion, he was still in full combat armor as he animatedly spoke with the Gunnery Chief near three terminals clustered in a corner.

Deckard looked down as he felt the ground vibrate beneath him, all he saw was his right hand trembling violently.

"First time killing something?" Luiz said, standing above him, in his distinctive accent.

Deckard nodded and grasped the shaking hand with his other. Luiz crouched down and took off his helmet.

"They deserved it Deck. We didn't want to be marines but we still gotta kill whatever dill is trying to kill us." He patted Deckard's head and gave him a mad-eyed look before standing up and checking on Jianyu.

" **I don't care Gunnery Chief! I order you to send out the communication now!** " The room went quiet. A few marines who were putting away their armor came back out of their housing room. Everyone looked at Davy and Gunnery Chief Tohlse.

"He won't like this," Tohlse said before entering information into the communication terminal. "It's going to be a shitty connection, _commander_." The marine stepped away as a head and shoulders appeared above the terminal.

 _Tholse! I told you not to raise… Who is this?_

"Commander Brennan," Davy shot off a polite salute. "I am Commander Crockett Davidson, from the _SSV Shetland_. Did you receive the ship's destruction signal?"

 _I did but…-sn't sure who ma- ... -any crew alive?_

Deckard and Wendy stood up and began to approach the periphery of camera's field of vision. The picture was flickering and scattering due to the approaching electrical storm.

"We have seven survivors. Captain Malonta and Helmsman Francis Markov were killed aboard the _Shetland_. We lost S1C Cedric Gray out in the desert."

 _Seven? Repe-_

"Seven, yes," Davy made exaggerated nods with his head to visually drive the confirmation back through the terrible signal.

 _Understoo -tuation?_

"We're still being hunted, I believe. Five ships attacked, we disabled one, before abandoning ship. Two attacked us en route to Lohse. Unconfirmed on remaining two."

 _Fucki- -rm. Hunted? Confir-_

"Yes," another exaggerated nod. "Hunted. Pirates. Slavers." Davy shrugged with his shoulders and hands to drive home the point.

 _Al..ance drove off pi- -ast week! Can- be._

"What?! Who the **fuck** just killed Cedric then?"

 _Unknow-_ Brennan leaned forward a bit, adjusting something on his end.

"Commander Brennan, we are going to be attacked again! We need reinforcements."

 _Reinfor- I'm not sen- -oops out in thi-_

"What?" Davy said in disbelief.

Tholse stepped towards the dumbstruck commander. "Standard procedure, sir. Too much risk to the kodiak's."

"What about countermeasures?" The commander asked both men in bewilderment.

 _Haven- -esperate need_.

"When can we expect reinforcements?" Davy asked with growing annoyance.

 _Late -omorrow. You -ave tw- -rm -nts conver-_

"Repeat, commander? Late tomorrow? Commander?"

 _I- repea- late -morrow_.

Tholse leaned over and began messing with the terminal to get a better signal, Davy kept right on talking.

"What about the distress beacon?"

 _I… -eacon -s -con_ …

The picture spliced, disappeared, and static filled the silent room. A vicious crack, a flash of light, and a disquieting sizzle lingered outside.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, commenting, following, favoriting, emoting, and other -ings.  
_ _Every one of you is awesome._

 **A/N:** _Level with me. Keep the transcribed accents or ditch them? (It's actually hard to not sound Scottish when writing Irish slang - sorry to both Scots and Irish)_

 **A/N/N** : _I actually went back and updated all previous chapters to fix character naming conventions and minor changes. I suggest rereading them for BETTER readability. But that's just my opinion, no need to go around spreading it._

* * *

 **Review Responses**

 _Tusken1602, seabo76, Katkiller-V_ : I'm glad we are all in agreement that The Otaka Window can happen. The game's give us a distorted sense of the passage of time, especially while in FTL. The relay's are instantaneous point-to-point(s) travel but FTL is never really shown properly in the games.

 _Guest_ : Thanks for reading! Was this MOAR enough for you?

 _Tusken1602_ : I too am looking forward to see how I tie in AR without fooking up Kat's "fanon." Mwhahahaha * _cough_ * excuse me.

 _Seabo76_ : I hope this chapter proved that things aren't going well in this part of our story.

 _Katkiller-V_ : Long-term gaps in patrols existing at this point in the timeline is a possibility. However, I was constrained by the importance of the colony and its location. Couldn't be in Earth Systems Alliance Space - so it has to be in the Attican Traverse - for the pirates to even think of having a shot. The only military asset that would need constant surveillance was Ontarom due to the communication hubs and network. I almost scrapped it when I realized the relay was IN Netwon and not Hercules System, as I originally thought. But, logical thinking solved it. Ships still need to _get_ to another mass relay to jump to the system, probably traveling through a couple to even reach Attican Beta to jump to the Kepler Verge.


	8. Act II: Chapter 2 - The Girl

**I don't own Mass Effect, my apologies to you personally**

* * *

 **Act II: Distress**

 **Chapter 2 - The Girl**

 _05-01-2179, 0700_

 _Lohse, Ontarom, Newtown System, Kepler Verge, Milky Way Galaxy_

* * *

Deckard finished wiping down condensation that had formed on his armor overnight where he had slept in the main room of the Lohse Garrison building. The artificially cooled air loved that his armor was still radiating heat from prolonged exposure to the temperature outside and decided to stay awhile. Deckard put his last leg piece on when his lieutenant entered the building.

"Deck, you gotta see this," Bridgette said, somehow still managing to keep her full interface visor on even with her helmet.

"Yes, ma… Bridgette." _Maybe she's cut out slots for the visor's frame?_ He wondered as he stepped out into the atrocious conditions that defined life on the planet. It didn't take long for Deckard to see why Bridgette had brought him out here.

The air was charged. Supercharged, if that was even possible. His face tingled a bit from the storms.

"What the holy fuck?" Deckard said as he saw half the sky filled with roiling black clouds and wildy lightning arcing from cloud to cloud.

"They say it happens every now and then. Two storms converged." Bridgette said as she looked back at Deckard.

 _Brennan's warning_ , Deckard thought. He voiced his concerns to the lieutenant.

"Mmm-hmm," was her reply. "A perfect storm."

"Is it safe to be out?" Deckard asked hesitantly.

"No worries. Tohlse told me the electrical storms only become a problem once they are actually over the village. He didn't seem very happy the storms are stalled though." She tapped the small protrusion of her visor frame to bring up some new type of information. "He said Thornal should have pushed them past us last night."

Deckard and Bridgette spent the next 20 minutes walking around Lohse. The colonists commented on the situation and repeated much of the same that Tholse said among themselves. The temperature rose steadily throughout their walk. And throughout their walk Bridgette and Deckard drew steadily closer together without realizing it. There had never been anything romantic between them so when Deckard's armored hand brushed Bridgette's they both flinched back at the contact. But Bridgette laughed it off and said it was actually a comfort to be around a familiar face in their situation.

Ever the gentleman, like his father taught him to be, Deckard crooked out his elbow for Bridgette to hold onto. In this escorting fashion they made their way to a section near the communications hub. A few of the locals out in their full-body work gear gave them looks but no one said anything.

They reached the communications hub at 0723, Bridgette informed them, and were staring at the growing communications array and outbuildings when their comms crackled to life.

 _Gidget! Deckard! Report!_ Their commander's voice sounded extremely concerned. They both checked in as they turned to offer each other a worried look.

 _Report back to the garrison immediately. Three dead marines were just found by the next patrol squad._

With Davy's orders finished, Bridgette confirmed the order and she and Deckard ran back the way they had come. The sailors pounded into the garrison building six minutes later. The skyrocketing heat causing them to guzzle down water from their canteens once safely indoors. The rest of the crew was there with four marines, one being Chief Tohlse. Davy wasted no time in bringing them up to speed and said nothing about their absence.

"Standard patrol was ambushed. Throats slit. Nasty work. The Chief and I were just going over what our plan of action is going to be." Their commander explained, his helmet on one of the tables next to Tohlse's.

"It's a shitty plan...sir," Tholse said with no anger, just disagreement. "We need to strike."

"Chief, we don't know _where_ to strike. We need to let them come to us. Consolidate squads in town. Warn the residents to retreat towards the safest and most protected building within the village. We _need_ to draw them to us."

"Is that an order?"

"I want it to be taken as the best advice to be offered. I don't want to throw my bars around," Davy answered with a frown.

The marine gunny thought for a moment and then nodded. "I hear you commander. I don't like it but...I suppose you are right. Charlie squad will be back soon. Let's hope whoever is hunting you, and us, takes their sweet time."

Davy then explained to Bridgette and Deckard that the rest of the _Shetland's_ crew was stationed in a gatehouse three blocks to the north, watching for anything coming towards them, since it was three stories high and had a commanding field of view of the surrounding land.

"Go relieve Wendy and Doc," the commander said. "They don't need to be on the front line right now." The two crewmembers nodded and began to fill their canteens and MRE rations for the day. "I just wish I knew what, or who, we were facing," Davy complained before they headed out.

"You could ask The Girl," Tohlse offered.

"Which girl, Gunny?" Deckard asked. "That's a little vague."

"That's her name, serviceman. Well, it's what everyone around here calls her. The Girl is usually in The Shifty Space Cow."

Bridgette barked out a laugh before covering her mouth.

Tohlse gave a smile of his own. "Named by some of the workers. It's a bar near the construction site. I can go fetch her for you, but we don't really get along."

"Deckard and I will go," Davy announced, sliding on his helmet. "Bridgette, debrief the rest of the crew, send Doc and Wendy back this way."

The three crew members departed and went their separate ways in the oven that was Ontarom. After walking a block the commander turned to look at Deckard.

"Where were you two?" Davy's question had the familiar edge of an unspoken order in it.

"Just walking around, sir."

"Without informing anyone?"

"I think we just spaced out while we explored the village and ended up at the construction site twenty minutes later." Deckard finished his answer with a shrug; his commander replied with a grunt.

Walking another two blocks the construction site loomed before them. Davy stopped a local and asked for directions to the got a smile, a wink, and were pointed in the right direction. Two minutes later, in the shadow of the temporary construction walls, right across from one of the entrances to the construction site, was an unassuming black building. Next to its door was a haptic display showing the head and front arms of a space cow. The arms were wiggling about from side to side.

Davy shook his head. "Shifty vacas," he muttered. _Thank you for your donation to the Worker's Drink Tab Commander Crockett Davidson! Two credits have been deducted from your Alliance account._ Davy stopped as the building's door opened and gave the bartender he spotted across the room an angry glare.

"Tell me that's just a joke!" Davy barked at the bartender.

"Come in marine or I'll just keep taking credits from your account," the lanky man answered in German as way of an explanation. Davy stomped towards the bar, Deckard laughing to himself at the situation. He saw that there were at least nine other individuals in the bar with them, at about 0800 in the morning.

The commander leaned against the bar's counter. It was a standard colonial pre-fab storage building but had been remodeled some time ago into this bar. Makeshift materials and pieces from different sets of furniture made up the decor. The interior gave off an air that it was all just thrown together and left that way one day. This was probably the most accurate design assessment anyone could have made.

"I need to speak with The Girl." Immediately the bartender straightened at Davy's order and a few customers pushed away from their tables and exited the building. Davy and Deckard turned at the sound of the commotion. When they brought their heads back to get an explanation, they were met with a Scimitar shotgun pointed at them.

"WHOA!" Deckard said as he put his hands up. The commander took a step back.

"Hold it!" The bartender warned them. "She's not leaving with you! Does Chief Tohlse know you're even in Lohse?"

"What?" Davy asked. "We just crash landed seven klicks from here last night. The Gunnery Chief brought us into town! What the hell is going on here?"

A ping came from behind the bar and the bartender shifted over to his left. He leaned back slightly and rested the shotgun handle on his chest to quickly touch a small terminal. He brought the free hand back to support the gun before he lost his tenuous grip.

"Yeah!" The bartender growled.

 _It's Tohlse. I sent two sailors over there to talk with The Girl. Have they arrived yet?_

"They aren't here to arrest her?" The bartender asked.

 _Peter put down the shotgun!_ The bartender, Peter, just stared at Davy and Deckard. _Peter!_ Tohlse's voice warned again.

"Fine, her blood be on your hands, Chief." The shotgun was lowered. "I'm not holding them up anymore."

 _They need to talk to her, Peter. Look, we've got a real mess coming. Please get her to help them?_

Peter grunted before severing the comms. He reached back and knocked on the wall behind him. Another ping sounded and Peter touched his ear. He stood listening to whomever was talking to him through the concealed earpiece. The sailors eased onto two makeshift barstools.

"I know...I know...Look, Tohlse said you needed to see these two sailors...Ha, funny...Yes I already threatened them...No they aren't...That's what Tohlse said...He's never lied to you though...Good enough." Peter turned his attention back to Deckard and Davy. "Sit and wait for her."

"No other choice," Davy replied.

Deckard began to drum his fingers on the bar before stern looks from his commander and Peter made him stop. "We should get in touch with Bridget and get back to the others," Deckard finally said to his commander.

"We haven't even talked," said a feminine voice in German behind them. Deckard and Davy shifted on the stools and saw the unmistakable outline of an asari standing ten feet away. She stood roughly 5 foot 8 inches tall, with violet skin, and striking white facial markings resembling claws that had been raked across her face. "What was so important Tohlse told you to come to me?"

"Short story is that we're being hunted," the commander answered. "We were told you may know by whom."

"Such information to work with," her reply dripped with condescension.

"Five pirate ships attacked our ship. Three or four are now searching for us. Turians and batarians."

The Girl let out a laugh. "Sailor, turians and batarians don't work together."

Davy gritted his teeth. "As I told Brennan, who the **fuck** blew up our ship and killed three sailors, including our captain, then? Were those **not** turians and bats we killed on our way to reach this village after we crashed?" The commander was standing in a threatening posture by the end of his rhetorical questions.

Deckard reached up and grabbed his commander's forearm to calm him as a biotic glow began to emanate from The Girl.

" _That_ was an interesting response," chimed in a new flanging female voice. Deckard and Davy looked to their right to see a six and a half foot tall, tan-skinned, turian female leaning against a wall. He face had an inverted, purple 'V' painted on it and she was outfitted in armor that had to be anything _but_ standard-issue.

"This doesn't concern you," The Girl said.

"Someone mentions turians and batarians working together? It may not concern me but it's interesting to me. I like interesting things," the female turian replied.

"Get out of here. I provided what you asked for," the asari said with a nod of her head towards the door.

Deckard and Davy heard Bridgette's voice come over their comms.

 _Spotted them Davy. They are heading towards the construction site. Destination appears to be a ship close to there._

"How many, lieutenant?" Davy inquired.

 _Nineteen at best count. They are on foot._

"Nineteen! Where's Tohlse?" Davy said back into his helmet. The asari and turian were starting to gather around the commander.

 _Awaiting orders._ Bridgette replied.

"Then _order_ him to get to the construction site, Deck and I are still here at the bar. We'll see who we can pick off." Bridgette clicked the comms once to acknowledge the order. Davy looked at the two alien women. Now that The Girl had stepped more into the light, the sailors noticed she had very real scars across her face and had chosen to paint the marks in white. It was an odd sight.

"The pirates are making for a ship close by here," the commander explained.

"That's _my_ ship! They can't have it!" The turian said as she ran out of the bar.

"Vetra, wait!" The Girl called out, but the turian was already out the door.

"Let's go Deckard. Need to find a sniper's nest for you to surprise them until Tohlse and Bridgette arrive."

"Aye, sir."

"Wait!" The Girl said before the sailors could even move. She paused, thinking something over.

"We don't have all day!" Davy yelled at her.

"Follow me," The Girl said. She trotted to the bar and caught a very large, very modified sniper rifle that Peter had tossed her. "I've got just the place."

The Girl led Davy and Deckard out the back door of the bar and into one of Lohse's many alleyways ringing the construction site. They turned to head towards the turian's ship at The Girl's direction. After passing three buildings she stopped them behind a two-story pre-fab unit with a ladder leading from the ground to the roof.

Davy was the first up the ladder but stopped when he heard The Girl's voice from below.

"What's the matter sailor? It's a ladder, rung after rung. You have climbed a ladder before, right?"

"I…" Deckard just shook his head. "I…"

"Dammit, serviceman, we need your rifle!" Davy shouted down at him.

"I'm afraid of heights!" Deckard blurted out.

"Great. Go be afraid of heights up there," The Girl ordered along with a finger point.

"Madre dios Deck! This isn't the time! You're a sniper!" The commander yelled as he climbed to the top of the roof.

"I'm a steward!" Deckard yelled back. He took a deep breath and grabbed a hold of a rung at eye level. He worked slowly and took two steps up the ladder before stopping.

The Girl muttered a curse about her goddess' cleavage before Deckard felt her hands start pushing on him from below.

"Hey!" Deckard yelled out.

"I don't have time for this shit, you unbloodied maiden. Get off the ladder or use it!" The Girl growled at him as she pushed him up on the ladder again. "Just...Just look at the fucking wall!"

Deckard took a gulp of air but did as he was told and took the rungs one at a time and very slowly. He toppled over the top of the ladder and onto the roof. This action may have been helped by The Girl pushing on him the last two rungs.

"You two stop playing grabass and get over here!" Davy said in a harsh whisper from where he crouched behind the half-wall on the other side of the roof. The Girl crouched and began to make her way over to the commander. Meanwhile Deckard picked himself up into a crouching position, forced himself to look at the roof, and slowly made his way to the half-wall.

"Thanks for joining us," The Girl said as she peered through the scope of her massive sniper rifle. "Just don't look down."

Deckard immediately glanced over the wall and fell backwards from the vertigo.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Davy said as he glared at the asari. "We only have fourteen against nineteen Terminus pirates. And half of us aren't even marines!"

The Girl took her eyes away from her scope and gave a smile to the commander, the scars on her face contorting it into something grotesque. "You've got _me_ sailor."

 _Commander we're in position._ Bridgette's voice broke over the radio. _Look's like_ _there's a turian trying to get that ship started! Wait..._

To the left of them they heard sharp small arms fire. "They're approaching faster towards us now," The Girl said casually, as if she was placing a food order.

 _Commander!_ Bridgette yelled into the comms again.

"I'm here!" Davy called back. "Sitrep?"

 _I had to fire on them Davy. They looked to be working out a plan to sweep into Lohse._ Small arms fire cut off the report. Davy glared at Deckard and pointed at him to move to the left end of the roof.

 _They aren't pirates Davy. They're slavers. Tohlse said he noticed the collars dangling from the back of their armor. Orders?_

"Deckard and I are going to throw them off balance by firing from a roof above the turian ship. Wait...backs? Where are you lieutenant?" The commander scurried over to crouch next to Deckard, who looked to be working up the courage to peer over the wall with his sniper rifle. The sound of battle picked up to their left again and was punctuated by the dull thumps of fragmentary grenades.

"Lieutenant!" Davy yelled into the comms. He slapped Deckard's head. "Fire serviceman! That's a goddamned order!"

Deckard nodded and swung his sniper rifle out over the wall and swept it left. Nearly 1000 feet to his left he could see concentrated fire from the base of several buildings. The attackers were focusing on a ridge which ran parallel to the village.

Deckard swung his scope back to the ridge and began to see slight bobbing forms on the far side. The angle just wasn't right for him to get a shot but he dialed back on the zoom and began his slow breathing exercises. Deckard willed everything he had into not freaking out about the height.

"Girl!" Davy called out next to him. "How many approaching the ship?"

"Still nineteen."

"Then...who the fuck's on the ridge?"

Deckard was able to answer his commander's question the split-second after he pulled his trigger for the first time..

"Turians. I think eight."

"Gidget, report!" Davy yelled into the comms.

 _Commander, she's back with Do_ c, Wendy answered. _She ordered us to hit them from behind, Crockett. Sound strategy. Forgot about the shields. They recovered quickly and tossed grenades at us. She's...she's hurt pretty bad. Along with Jianyu._

Deckard fire off another round, dropping another turian with a headshot.

 _Commander Davidson, this is Tohlse_. _We need orders, commander_.

"Send...send three of your men with Chief Walker to your right towards the ship. Do you know what ship Bridgette meant?"

 _Yep. Tell The Girl I thought that turian wasn't coming back._ There was a pause. _Order given, commander_.

"Sit tight and keep the slavers on the ridge pinned down." Davy turned to Deckard. "That goes for you too, Deck."

"Aye, sir." Deckard replied as his commander scurried back next to the asari.

Soon Deckard heard the asari bark out a laugh and then call out. "Vetra, you pissed off Tohlse again."

A muffled, flanging voice said something but Deckard drowned it out with another shot from his sniper rifle. The third death finally brought attention to his position as pistol fire peppered his corner of the roof. He pushed himself down the wall to the right a bit to keep a good angle.

 _Commander, we're just below Deckard's bullet magnet_. Luiz's drawl announced over the comms.

"The Girl says you can get between the ship and the building without being seen from that ridge. Is there a crane in front of you?"

 _Stands out like the dog's balls. We're moving_.

Deckard fired off another round and swore, it missed high. He repositioned again.

"Wendy, I need fire on that ridge. Got any frags?"

 _Aye, sir._

"Good. Deckard, you set?"

"Those other nineteen goddess-damned slavers are still closing, sailor!" The Girl warned with an edge not yet heard by Davy and Deckard.

Deckard nodded at his commander. "Try to get four on the ridge, Wendy." Davy ordered. A mic click signaled Wendy's response.

Two grenades hit the ridge too high. Deckard killed one of the turians as they stood up to return fire. The next two grenades landed further down the back slope and Deckard caught two more slavers as they ran away from the ridge.

While Deckard's firefight was going on, Davy had ordered the four new bodies to pick out good sight lines around Vetra's ship. This was met by a string of protests from the turian woman as she couldn't very well leave with people standing around her ship.

"Davy. Wendy. I see no more movement on the ridge," Deckard said into the comms.

"Fine," Davy replied into the comms. "Wendy. Tohlse. Bring the rest of the marines over here."

 _Aye aye, commander_. Wendy responded.

Deckard very slowly crouch-walked back to his commander and the asari. He could hear them arguing about the next course of action.

Suddenly, assault rifle fire erupted below them. The Girl cursed her goddess' ass and let loose with her sniper rifle for the first time. The thing sounded like an artillery piece going off. Deckard saw dust on the wall and rooftop kick up from the recoil.

The one shot ceased all gunfire below them. "Ha! Batarians. Kill a leader and it takes their goddess-damned cadre a bit to figure out who has the desire to be the next one to die by a sniper's round." The asari began to caress her gun fondly.

"That bad?" Vetra called up from below, stopping The Girl's petting.

"You thinking of helping?" The Girl yelled back down to her.

"I'm thinking Kesh needs these plans. I need the credits. I can't leave without these Terminus fools gone. So...looks like I gotta help."

"Oh...now the Sheila wants to help." Luiz's voice said ironically from below.

Vetra's response was too low to hear from above but Luiz and the three marines with him laughed in response.

 _We're here, commander_. Wendy said over the comms. _We're by some construction cranes._

"Yeah, that's correct. Move to your right between the cranes and-" The Girl's massive rifle announced its presence again. "-then spread out to the left. Find good spots among the construction vehicles to set up kill zones."

"Don't bother," The Girl said. "I've scared them away."

"What?" Deckard said as he steeled himself and hesitantly brought his own scope up to his eye. "Son of a bitch."

The Girl cleared her throat loudly. " _Daughter_ of a bitch, thank you." She slapped the commander on the back. "Come on sailor. Let's laugh our asses off as we watch your chef try to get off this roof."

* * *

 _05-01-2179, 0957_

 _Lohse Marine Garrison Building, Lohse, Ontarom, Newton System, Kepler Verge_

Deckard sat out in the blistering heat, absently watching the electrical storms resuming their inexorable slow movement across the desert towards Lohse. His suit's cooling system was hard at work keeping him uncomfortable but not deathly uncomfortable. In his hand he was twirling Bridgette's visor by its one remaining frame.

Deckard heard the door open, felt the gloriously cool air come and go, and paid no attention to the boots stopping next to him. He continued to twirl the broken visor in his hands. A water bottle floated into his vision.

"Drink," Vetra said softly. "You'll die out here without it."

Deckard gave a dark laugh. "I'll die out here with it. This whole fucking patrol." He waved his free hand to take in the village. "Fucking slavers. Fucking Brennan. Fucking Alliance!"

Vetra kept the bottle dangling in front of Deckard for a little bit before shaking it to get his attention. "I take it you were close?"

"We uh...she was like the big sister I never had." Deckard said with a sniff. "And now...Now half her fucking brain is melted to the rocks."

"Look…"

"Fuck off." Deckard spat out. When Vetra didn't move Deckard slumped his shoulders and stopped spinning Bridgette's visor. A beat later he brought his arm back to throw the visor into the street when three strong fingers closed on his wrist.

"That's not going to accomplish anything except to destroy her memory." Vetra said quietly. "Plus... These are pretty decent." She moved his wrist to get a better look. "Obviously, they need to be repaired."

"Take them."

"What?" Vetra said, taken back at the offer.

"Take them." Slowly Vetra let go of Deckard's wrist and grabbed the broken visor. Deckard took the water bottle with his other hand.

"You don't mind? I mean, I'd have to work on these a bit..but…" Vetra seemed lost in thought.

"Let's go." Deckard said as he stood up.

"That's it? Give me her visor and say that you're feeling fine?" Vetra asked.

"What do you care?"

"I care that someone lost a sister today."

"Go care somewhere else then. It's fucking hot and this water isn't cold." Deckard turned to walk back into the building before Vetra asked him another question.

"You guys want a lift?" Deckard stopped before opening the door.

"What?"

"I've got room for the five of you. Gonna cost you, of course."

"What?!" Deckard turned on the woman with a finger raised. "Listen smuggler. I've lost five friends on this damn mission and you want me and the rest of my crew to just, leave? Not to mention that Lohse is still being attacked by more than nineteen slavers and **no** help is coming from Geiger, or the Alliance!"

Vetra took a step back into the road. "Sometimes you just need to run, sailor." She stared at him for several seconds. "Suit yourself. Your commander told me the exact same thing. And the doctor. And the other two." With that, she turned and hustled down the street back to her ship.

The cool air in the building was a welcome relief. The sight of where Dr. MacDonnell tried in vain to save Jianyu and Bridgette was a punch to the gut. Deckard still willed himself to step into the building and around the scene that some of the marines were cleaning up.

"Looks like she _couldn't_ convince you," The Girl said as she leaned against the wall. "Guess I owe her 50 credits."

Deckard stood there stunned. "You're joking at a time like this?"

"When you're 237 years old, some of this shit has happened before." Her head tilted at the same time one of her shoulders rose up, shrugging in the asari way.

Deckard couldn't hide the anger in his voice. "Why didn't you go with her? Why do you care what happens to Lohse?"

"Because I'm one of the idiots who _lives in it_!" She sniped back at him. "Look, I can tell you haven't been on this shore before but don't take it out on me."

"Deckard, lad. That's enough," Dr. MacDonnell said as he laid a hand on Deckard's shoulder. The doctor quickly took the hand away with a curse because of the armor's temperature. Deckard sighed and slumped against the wall and down to the floor.

Doc let out a cry of surprise and bent down to check on him before the soft sounds of crying started to fill their area of the main room.

The brig/storage room door opened and Chief Tohlse and Davy walked out. "I'm telling you, commander, I tried right before the poor lieutenant ordered me and my men to join the fight. The comms are down. The interference is too much."

"Then how the _hell_ is Vetra leaving Lohse? Brennan told me he couldn't send reinforcements because of the electrical storms!" Davy retorted. "Now the fucking storm is even closer than it was when my crew got here last night and still? _Nothing_?"

"Ha!" The Girl barked out as she walked up to the two arguing humans. "You actually take that worm's word?"

"What?" Davy said sharply.

"Tell him Tohlse," The Girl said with another face-rending smile.

"For the last time: Commander Lionel Brennan is an Alliance officer, he is **not** out here for his own gain. He works with what he has at his disposal and must keep the military's assets secured." The sound of strong winds outside was heard through the building's walls.

"It's the other assets he cares about more," The Girl added.

"Again, there are **no** 'secret facilities' on Ontarom." Tohlse said as he pointed a finger at the asari.

The Girl waved him off before turning to the commander. "Look sailor, I don't know why Brennan hasn't come to Lohse, but he isn't going to make any attempt to try until he has something to gain from it." She began to walk out into the storm before turning back. "Come on. Gather your crew. Drinks are on me."

Davy nodded once and Tohlse went for his helmet before The Girl stopped him.

"Not you Tohlse. For the sailors."

* * *

 **A/N** : _This was a surprisingly hard chapter to write. The skirmish was the worst part. Could it be writer's block? Could it be lack of inspiration? Maybe I'm just not good? Whatever the cause, the effect was a hard-to-write chapter. I hope you all like The Girl. She was the second character I thought of when creating the story concept. Kat can have his promiscuous asari, I can show that not all asari are like that in the galaxy_ :) _I also changed the title from_ Perfect Storm _since it didn't fit how the story came out._

 _Up next:_ Act II - Chapter 3 'Through Darkest Night…'

 _ **Thank you everyone again for the viewing, the reading, the favorites, and the follows! I love you all, except you Marvin. Except YOU.**_


	9. Act II: Chap 3 - Through Darkest Night

**I don't own Mass Effect, my apologies to you personally**

* * *

 **Act II: Distress**

 **Chapter 3 - Through Darkest Night...**

 _05-01-2179, 1700 Galactic Standard Time_

 _Lohse, Ontarom, Newtown System, Kepler Verge, Milky Way Galaxy_

* * *

The wind buffeted The Shifty Space Cow where five morose, armor-clad sailors tried to stay focused on their situation. Yet the storm outside spoke volumes as to their feelings on the matter. Lohse was being battered by a previously stalled electrical storm, made even more intense by Thornal beginning its nightly rage around Ontarom.

There were only about eight different glasses situated in front of the remaining crew of the _SSV Shetland_. Since their corvette had been attacked above Ontarom only yesterday they had lost half her compliment. Helmsman Markov and Captain Malonta blown up in space; Engineering Serviceman Gray sniped out in the desert; and just this morning 1st Lieutenant Lucci and Serviceman Lin fragged on the outskirts of the village. It was a gruesome death toll.

The normal patrons left the sailors alone. Word had already spread about their skirmishes and how they were helping the local marine garrison protect the village from slavers. The sailors had turned down every offer to buy them drinks, to Luiz Walker's dismay. The Australian gunnery chief was known for his ability to get out of control and lose his head, yet since this morning he had been very subdued. Perhaps pressure worked on different people in different ways?

The prefabricated building swayed in the wind as the door was opened and seven marines, the entirety of the village's remaining garrison, walked in. Some of the patrons yelled at them for opening the door, the complaints were waved off with friendly jests and comments. The marines followed behind their garrison NCO, Gunnery Chief Richard Tohlse. Tohlse had been trying to buoy the sailor's hopes as much as possible since last night but it wasn't helping. The loss of three of his own soldiers was a blow to the chief's morale as well.

"Tohlse!" The Girl yelled from her seat to the right of the bar. "What dragged your motley band all the way out here in this goddess-damned storm?"

"I'm just checking up on the sailors, smuggler." Tohlse answered gruffly. "Haven't seen them since...this morning."

"Well, here we are!" Luiz said, spreading his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Sober as the day I was born. Much to my disappointment."

"This is no time to get sloshed," Doc MacDonnell quietly admonished him. The lackluster delivery pointed to the fact that the old doctor wanted nothing more than to drink away sorrows.

"I'm only here to tell you it would be safer back at the garrison."

"Why did you bring all the maidens?" The Girl asked as she took a sip of her drink. There was silence between the groups for a beat.

"In case we don't come, of course," Wendy Kolthani said in her Indian accent. She turned to the gunnery chief. "Strength in numbers gunny?"

"Something like that chief. We drove them off too easily this morning. We haven't heard anything or seen anything the whole rest of the day."

"The storm's been keeping them away!" Peter, the German-speaking bartender, scoffed as way of an explanation. There was another long pause. Finally, Tohlse waved his men towards empty tables.

"Say…" Deckard asked absentmindedly, looking at The Girl. "Why do you speak German?"

The Girl snorted a laugh, contorting her scarred face into a grotesque mask. "You humans. I speak a lot of languages, sailor," she said in German. "Whichever one I choose it's for my own purposes," she added in Thessian. "In my line of work, you can't be too careful," she continued in Low Batarian. "Plus, you always need to make people feel at ease," she finished in perfect, unaccented English. She winked at all the _Shetland's_ crew and their awed stares. She reverted back to German, "But I speak this one most often around Peter because he's such a nice old dear to me."

A vicious thunderclap and sizzling echoed outside. The lights flickered once but stayed on.

"The storms cut the power regularly?" Davy asked The Girl.

"Rarely. But this isn't a normal storm," she gave an asari shrug to punctuate her point. "Who knows what the fuck is going to happen? Could just blow by. Could stay and take up residence with us."

The lights flickered again.

"Crockett." Wendy reached out and put a hand on the commander's wrist. "We need to figure out what to do once this storm passes. If The Girl says Brennan can't be trusted-" shuffling was heard over at the marine's tables. "-then we need to figure out how to establish contact."

"Just send out a signal," The Girl said. All five sailors stiffened in their chairs and dropped their eyes a little. "There _is_ someone to receive it?" Her eyes darted between Davy and Wendy. "Athame's holy azure!" The Girl growled as she shot up from her chair, biotic light glowing on her fist.

Davy was up with her, holding his hands out. "Not here!" He glanced at the bartender who looked wholly confused at the turn of events.

The Girl clenched her fist harder, then seemed to think better of it because she pounded her thigh with the charged fist and the biotic light went out. She nodded her head to her left. "We'll talk in there." Before walking away, The Girl whipped a finger into the commander's face. "But you better not fucking lie to me, sailor."

As they walked into the back part of the bar Wendy turned to look at Luiz. "Luiz, I've got some plans, can you at least take a look?" She slid a datapad over to him.

"I'll try Wendy but I'm probably about as useful as tits on a bull when it comes to advanced designs."

"Whatever I can milk," Wendy laughed with a wink. The other three crew members joined in the laughter as another flash, roar, and sizzle could be heard outside.

The dull roar continued after the initial sound. "Sounds like the wind is picking up again," Deckard sighed as he lounged back in his chair.

"That's not wind," Tohlse said slowly getting to his feet. He ordered the marines onto their feet as the door to the bar blew in, taking out two of the marines with its forward momentum. Gunfire streamed into the bar from the doorway.

Chaos erupted in the bar as patrons, marines, and sailors dove for whatever cover they could find. This was made all the more difficult by the fact that nothing inside the bar was good protection from mass accelerated grains of sand. The gunfire from outside ceased and two overload grenades were thrown into the bar, their blue hue trailing behind them as they made wide arcs in the air.

Two marines didn't move away fast enough and were caught by the overloads. Their barriers fried, they were easily gunned down by heavy pistol fire. Tohlse and the his two remaining marines returned fire from the left side of the room while the _Shetland_ crew members fired into the gaping black hole that used to be the front door to the bar.

The attack was over just as quickly as it had begun as no return fire answered the initial Alliance barrage. Everyone in the bar waited for a minute, listening to the storm rage on. Nothing could be seen waiting for them outside in the flashes of brilliant lightning.

When it was evident no one else was going to attack at that moment, Luiz and Deckard went and stood guard on either side of the demolished doorframe. Colonists and military alike began to pick up the pieces of broken furniture and tend to the four dead marines. Soon The Girl and Davy walked back into the main room from where they were talking privately prior to the attack.

The commander walked over to Tohlse as he stood over the crumpled forms of the two marines hit by the door. Looking at the maimed and broken bodies the commander simply put a hand on the gunnery chief's shoulder in condolence.

"I've got to know why?" Tohlse said barely above a whisper.

"Why what?" The commander asked.

"Why didn't you activate your distress beacon when you escaped the _Shetland_?"

"Because there's no one to receive it," The Girl said coming up to stand on the other side of Tohlse. "Our colony's entire Alliance patrol is in this room."

"What?" Tohlse looked hard into the commander's eyes.

"The next patrol is slated to arrive in two days." Davy couldn't hide the sadness in his own voice. "Gunny, we're it. We haven't activated a distress beacon on Ontarom because there is no one to receive the signal. Hell, we could have the remote possibility that some Alliance reinforcements are on their way right now but we don't know if our ship's emergency beacon ever made it to the relay before the _Shetland_ was destroyed."

"So we have the slim possibility that the Alliance is coming tomorrow?" Davy nodded his head in confirmation at Tohlse's question. "Then we'll just have to start up Lohse's emergency beacon, Commander."

"I've been thinking," Deckard said as he walked away from his position at the door. "If these are slavers, why are they murdering us? Why not just knock us out and then take us as their slaves?"

"They want us out of the way so they can take the trained colonists," Tohlse explained. "Usually they don't stick around this long but if they have four ships, they know they have numerical superiority. Plus, with the storm making Commander Brennan's response slow, they must be feeling emboldened."

"The fact that we couldn't get a goddess-damn signal in or out of Lohse due to the storm, means they cannot as well. So they feel particularly insulated to extend their snatch and grab." The words no sooner left The Girl's lips when gunfire ripped through the air.

"I've got sights on two targets down the street!" It was Luiz's only warning before he let loose with controlled volleys from his assault rifle down the right face of the building.

"Luiz!" The _Shetland's_ commander yelled as his gunnery chief's rifle overheated. The man looked at Davy with a crazed look in his eyes as he ducked back and began to work on his omni-tool.

"Luiz, stop!" Davy had no way to get to Luiz as he would have to travel past the open doorway and risk exposing himself to gunfire. The commander looked over his shoulder when he heard scraping along the floor and realized Deckard and one of the Lohse Marines were trying to put a table across the doorway.

Before the table could block the exploded doorway, Luiz let out a laugh and spun out into the middle of the building's gaping entrance. The red incendiary grenades streaked out of from his launcher but were accompanied by red mist which sprayed from the back of the sailor's head as a sniper round found its mark. Everyone let out a cry as Luiz's limp body fell to the ground.

Deckard finally managed to get the table in place to protect part of the entrance before rushing to his fallen crew member. There wasn't anything Dr. MacDonnell or anyone else could do. With blood slowly pooling beneath the gunnery chief's head, Wendy placed the now limp limbs in a peaceful resting position on Luiz's still chest. Peter was there to place a blanket over the man's corpse.

"Fuck!" Deckard yelled, causing one of the marines from Lohse to flinch away from him. "How long is this going to fucking go on? We're supposed to stay put in here while the slavers either round up the whole village or wait for them to kill us all!? Fuck that! Fuck. That!"

"Deckard, my boy," Dr. MacDonnell had a pained expression on his face and he opened his mouth but couldn't find the words to say.

"Listen kid," The Girl picked up where Dr. MacDonnell let off. "This is pretty messed up, I'm not going to lie. But I'm also not going to keep my pretty ass in here to get a bullet to the brain." The asari smuggler walked over to the left side of the main room and disappeared around a corner. She stuck her head back around the corner several moments later. "That was me telling all of you to get the fuck over here so we can get out of this place."

The _Shetland's_ four remaining crew members, Lohse's three remaining marines, and the bartender walked over to the asari and followed her as she led them down a hallway and then down another level. This lower level held several rooms that were all shut and locked, which The Girl led them past and continued following the winding corridor. Exposed pipes and wiring lined the walls of the service corridor

The group came upon another set of rooms and another staircase after walking about 50 yards through the service corridor. As they exited into a new building they immediately noticed the power was out. Some illumination was given off by dull red emergency lights but the building was shrouded in an eerie, dark gray. Tohlse and his marines took the lead and swept the building, a warehouse, as a precaution. Deckard crept over to a hallway window and knelt down for a better view to see if the power loss was localized. The stark darkness of Lohse, only illuminated by flashes from the electrical storm gave up that lone hope.

Somehow, either by sabotage or from the storm, Lohse had lost its electricity. The steady blowing of the wind could be heard and nothing could be seen from his vantage point as to what the slavers were doing. He heard footsteps behind him and turned with his pistol raised, relaxing as he dimly saw that it was just The Girl.

"Athame's tits kid! Remind me to always make lots of loud noises when approaching you."

"Being constantly shot at will make anyone jumpy."

A flash of light illuminated the room they were in and Deckard tried not to flinch at the shadows that splayed across The Girl's rent face. He slowly lowered his pistol as the scarred asari walked to the opposite side of the window and crouched down to his level.

Deckard gave her a hard look. "So… I just want to ask….Hmmm, about...uhhh."

"What a way to be smooth, kid. Yeah, my face is fucked up."

"What happened?"

The Girl grunted out a laugh. "Something bad. When I was a young, stupid maiden." Another flash of lightning briefly lit up the village in the darkness and played across The Girl's face. "But that's another story for another time, and lots of alcohol. Now, we wait for a plan to develop."

"Not going to help them?" Deckard asked.

"Do I look like a leader to you? The only goddess-damn thing I lead is my life," another flash and roar occurred outside.

"I was just asking. I'm sure your input would be appreciated."

The Girl laughed again, the melodic tones offset by another flash and the ensuing shadowplay across her scars. "Kid, you crack me up. How did you ever make it through Basic?"

"Friends, mostly. Fear of failing more than that."

The Girl stared out the window. "Have you failed enough today?" Deckard glared at her through the grey darkness. "Your silence says you have. But let me tell ya kid: you haven't failed. All of those deaths... _this_ is the galaxy. Or the Traverse. Or Terminus. Take your pick. Not all life can be as idyllic as calm shores and warm sand. The best you can do out here is to find your life and then fight for it no matter what."

"Uniquely poetic," Wendy said from down the hallway. "Both of you come with me. The commander has a plan."

The Operations Chief led them into a small, poorly-lit room on the second story of the warehouse that contained a large window looking over the empty blackness of the large building. Light was provided by two barrel-mounted flashlights and two red emergency lights situated on the ceiling. Deckard kept himself along the far wall, trying not to think what lay on the other side of the window and how long it would take him to splatter his brains when he inevitably fell out of that window. Davy and Chief Tohlse were standing next to each other over a desk with their backs turned to the door. The Lohse Marines were busy cleaning weapons and checking munitions off to left. Dr. MacDonnell was resting in a chair situated near a small metal table, his medical supply box resting at arms length on the table. The old bartender was nowhere to be found.

Davy and Tohlse finished whatever they had been discussing and waved everyone over to the small table. Before the debrief started, small arms chatter could be heard coming from outside. The sound died out before anyone could react and agreement was made that it would be pointless to investigate.

Davy started the meeting. "Alright let's recap the situation. We have at least twenty turian and batarian slavers who are looking to sweep into Lohse, kill us, and take skilled colonists. There's only seven of us and we aren't getting reinforced until the storm dies out and someone communicates with Geiger. The power has either intentionally been cut or has gone out due to the storm which means communications to anyone can't happen until power has been restored."

"So we need to make a decision," Tohlse picked up. "Do we wait it out here and hope that we aren't found? Or do we relocate to the garrison building where the emergency beacon is located?"

Faint small arms chatter could be heard outside once again.

"What about the villagers?" Deckard asked.

"The gunny and I agreed; we need to worry about bringing in extra support," Davy said with a grim face.

"What?! We're supposed to protect the colonists!"

"And what good would it do if you get killed, kid?" The Girl asked him.

"But they'll be captured…"

"Some probably already are lad." Dr. MacDonnell shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Which is another reason why we need to decide what to do." Davy started to pace as he talked. "If we're out there moving to the garrison building then we present a more pressing danger than taking slaves. Right now, staying in here, we just let them have a free reign to do what they please. But if we can move out in two groups and employ hit-and-run tactics we can hopefully confuse them and shift their focus."

"I'm going to take Tohlse and his marines in a sweep just on the outskirts of the village. We are going to try to keep a row of buildings and homes between us and the open desert to secure our flank. This circuitous route will allow us to assess the situation in the village and see where we could disrupt the slavers. Five minutes after the first squad leaves, Wendy will lead the other squad and head more or less straight for the garrison building."

Everyone agreed that the slavers had to know where the distress beacon was located and would have already secured the building. Therefore, Tohlse had pointed out several outbuildings the Alliance owned which were close enough to their garrison to be effective in launching their own counterraid once the storm had passed. No one would risk trying to breach the garrison in the middle of the storm so they would have to start the attack from these forward objectives when the storm passed.

The eight of them gathered around the back entrance an hour later, around 2000 hours. Sunrise on this part of Ontarom was 0400 in galactic standard time, giving them several hours to pick their way through Lohse and set up around the building in their forward positions. The mood was somber. Everyone could tell this was most likely a suicide mission.

"Soldiers...Girl," Davy said before his squad was to leave. "We can best these slavers. Keep in mind that in two engagements we have seriously reduced their numbers. Keep your wits about you. We get one shot to make this work. Only fight if you have the clear advantage and if you can do so quietly. We can't risk getting pinned down and drawing too much attention to either squad. Thirty minutes before sunrise, 0330, I will come to your location Wendy. At that time we'll coordinate the assault on the garrison." The commander put on his helmet as his chief gave him a nod. He checked his assault rifle one last time. "Alright marines, let's go!"

Because the power was out they had to manually open the sliding door in order to leave. The result being for five minutes the door would be wide open. The first squad left the warehouse and turned right into the darkness. Everyone held their breath, hoping to hear nothing through the darkness. The winds had died down but the feel of electricity in the air remained. Wendy had Doc stand between Deckard and The Girl while she took point. The old Irishman still wanted nothing to do with a pistol which the asari smuggler had found very amusing considering his predicament.

Eventually the five minutes were up. Wendy took a deep breath and stepped out the open door, heading to the left with a raised pistol, her shotgun low on her back. Deckard also had his pistol drawn. The Girl had kept her massive sniper rifle out, claiming the sound alone may help in a firefight. They treaded silently between the back of the buildings in this area. Lightning flashed above but the sizzle and accompanying noise were subdued.

They stopped where the buildings ended at the main street through Lohse. Their route to the garrison building crossed the main thoroughfare here and then turn right along tertiary side streets. Hopefully the side streets would be less patrolled or they could potentially thwart any potential ambushes along the main street. Though how they were supposed to quietly kill slavers if given the opportunity was anyone's guess.

Wendy was about to order them across the road when another flash of lightning briefly illuminated three turian slavers walking towards them. Thankfully they weren't spotted but they also could not move to cover without making too much sound. The silently waited, hoping the armored figures would pass.

Their hopes were dashed as the turians stood in the middle of the street and continued their discussion. Deckard's translator had to be turned off before he became sick at the way they were describing "breaking" one of the female communication engineers before she could be put in a cage. He was so busy trying to not think about their descriptions that he never heard The Girl stand up before she biotically charged right into the group with a sharp yell.

The purple flash as she exploded into the group hung in the air and gave supernatural illumination as she lashed out with a knife. Her movements were fluid and precise as she pierced each of the turian's throats in quick succession. The episode was over and The Girl stood in the middle of the street drawing in deep breaths. The three humans stood up and walked slowly over to The Girl. She took one last deep breath, wiped her knife on a piece of dirty cloth attached to one of the turians, and then shrugged. "I hate slavers."

"Dammit," Wendy said in a harsh whisper. "What are we going to do with the bodies?"

"Leave them." The Girl said quietly as she stepped over the still bodies. "It will draw away more groups between us and the beacon."

"But now they'll be on alert." Deckard whispered, crossing the street with his squad.

"Like they weren't alert already?" The Girl asked.

"We...we could have just knocked them out-"

"Too much time."

"You had to kill them?"

"They were slavers, kid."

"Quiet!" Wendy ordered in a whisper. The squad had made it to the appropriate side street. There were no patrols that could be heard in the area and the lightning was revealing nothing out of the ordinary. They now began to realize that the clouds were thinning as their surroundings took on a faint, gray hue.

"We need to hurry up," Doc said.

Wendy moved up on her own to another small intersection and swept the area with her pistol. She waved the others forward in the deadened light but quickly held them up with a raised fist. The scratch of boots on dirt could be heard to her left. Wendy pressed herself against the building she was leaning on and tried to hide her omni-tool's glow as she primed an overload. She waited five heart-pounding seconds as the boots drew nearer, then slapped the overload to her side of the building and silently walked backwards towards her squad.

She was joined by Deckard who had moved up to meet her halfway. The sailors took two more steps back before they froze as three batarians came into view. The slavers stopped near the entrance to the intersection as one of them looked at an omni-tool. He muttered something and then pointed down the street where the squad was hiding. They turned and, passing the spot where Wendy just was, were engulfed in blue electricity as their shields were fried by the primed overload.

The batarians let out a cry of surprise before Deckard and Wendy opened up on them with their pistols. Deckard began to walk forward to get a better grouping on his shots. They had taken down two of the batarians, but one fell to a knee in the initial blast and swung his rifle up. He let loose a wild volley as he kicked off to his right. Deckard's weak barriers took the initial two rounds but the next several peppered his plating. He rolled out to his own right to avoid anymore rounds from the batarian's rifle.

During this exchange Wendy fired off two more rounds from her pistol before rushing the batarian. She dropped her pistol and swung around her shotgun, whipping the batarian in the face with the weapon's pistol grip. The batarian let out an oath as Wendy brought the shotgun barrel hard down on his assault rifle. The rifle harmlessly fired a couple rounds into the dirt before Wendy brought the shotgun up again and smashed it into the batarian's face. Seeing that she had staggered the slaver, she pressed the end of the shotgun against the batarian's throat and pulled the trigger.

The makeshift silencer that was the batarian's throat helped dampen the blast, turning it into a small thud. The rest of the squad gathered around Wendy as she tried to wipe some of the mess off the exposed portions of her face. The Girl nudged Wendy's shoulder and handed her the dropped pistol.

"That'll do sailor. That'll do." The Girl gave a customary smirk and trotted off to scout ahead.

Thankfully the noise of their skirmish didn't attract any attention in front of them. Their squad continued winding their way down the street. While Lohse wasn't a large town, it was big enough to have oddly winding streets where past colonists eschewed town planning advice and simply put buildings where they thought they should go. Wendy kept the squad moving at a good pace and became lost in her routine of checking for any sign of the slavers to the left and right that she almost stepped right into a clearing where three batarians were standing ahead of them having a smoke.

The squad crept back to their nearest cover, a tall garden box and metal lattice outside a home. She made a gesture of slitting her throat with her right finger and pointed to Deckard and The Girl. They both nodded but Deckard then shook his head, mimed stabbing someone, and then pointed at himself. The Girl clapped a hand over her mouth as she held in a laugh at the violent pantomimes. Wendy simply shook her head and opened up a compartment on either side of her boots, handing a knife to Deckard with her left hand and wielding another in her right.

They all went still and slowly looked back to the batarians when the slavers laughed at something. Wendy turned back to see The Girl miming to Deckard where to stick the knife and how to turn it to effectively cut the batarians throat and vocal cord. She gave a nod when Deckard mimicked her motions. The Doc just shook his head and leaned against the building wall where he was sitting.

Wendy, Deckard, and The Girl crept out from their hiding spot and made their way to the slavers. They were within 10 feet of the group when the rightmost batarian turned his torso to spit and stopped cold as he saw The Girl. He tried to give a yell but the asari leaped at him, driving the knife into his throat instead of slicing it. This unexpected panic confused his partners, who were quickly set upon by Deckard and Wendy.

The Operations Chief clearly had some practice with her knives since her target was killed without fanfare. Deckard, however, missed digging the knife into the batarians flesh to begin with and then had to clamp a hand of the slaver's mouth so he couldn't call out. Deckard soon realized he was out of his league compared to the alien's strength. He slammed the knife back down right above the batarian's collarbone in an attempt not to be thrown off.

The slaver let out a muffled cry and then bit down hard Deckard's gloved hand. The steward let out a quiet whimper as he re-gripped the knife handle and gave it a sharp turn. The batarian flung him forward when he threw his hips back and bent at the waist. The slaver stood upright in time to get Wendy's knee in his stomach. He let out a pained sound and swung wildly at the woman.

Wendy sidestepped to her right, causing the batarian to turn his body and move to his right. She then took a step towards the batarian, which made him step back to keep the distance between them. The Girl wrapped her arm around the batarian's head from behind and finished him off with a smooth knife motion. Deckard limped up to the women and gave a small wave.

"Sorry about that," he whispered.

"Next time don't be sorry, be better." The Girl wiped her blade off and kicked the dead batarian in the head. "Fucking slavers."

The squad continued their wandering sojourn and an hour later Wendy stopped the squad in a small courtyard 50 yards on the other side of the road from the garrison and their objective. The Girl quietly ate some rations provided to her, throwing whispered complaints about the taste towards Doc.

Wendy motioned for Deckard to scout ahead with her. With the layer of stormclouds all but broken up, Thornal was beginning to rear its titanic head through the heavy, but scattered remaining clouds. This was a massive complication to the squad's plan to move unseen into the garrison's outbuildings. Deckard put his sniper rifle up to his eyes and saw six batarians far down the road, moving up towards the garrison. He swept his rifle to the right and couldn't see anyone else.

The steward leaned back behind the corner and told Wendy about what he had seen, and not seen.

His Operations Chief huffed out a sigh. "We've only got an hour before sunrise. Let me gather up The Girl and Doc and we'll make a break for our objective."

She walked away quietly and Deckard took a drink of water. He sat on the ground with his rifle resting between his legs. The sleepless night caught up with him as he unknowingly nodded off.

 _Deckard found himself walking in a gray mist. There was no form or substance, just mist. Too scared to call out, he took small steps forward. A window opened through the mist. Standing before him, nakedly perfect except for a cluster of bullet holes in her abdomen, was Bianka._

He was jolted awake by Doc's hand on his shoulder. The older man gave him a warm smile and a wink before motioning for him to get ready to move. Deckard blinked his eyes and then shook his head to get rid of his odd dream. The eerie twilight thrown off by Ontarom's damnable moon made regaining his senses a hard task. He stumbled once but gave a nod to Wendy when she looked back with a raised eyebrow.

The squad ran across the road in a crouch and wove their way around a couple of buildings. Soft sounds of arguing could be heard leaking out of the garrison building, now just a stone's throw away. Wendy worked her way to their objective and instinctively checked the power to open the door. She was surprised as the door's interface flickered to life. Entering the code Tohlse had given her in the warehouse, the door sprung open with the Alliance's familiar, muted two-note chime. A quick sweep with her pistol showed no signs of disturbance in the storage shed.

Wendy crept back to the rest of her squad as the first stirrings of dawn could be seen on the horizon. She led them back to their next hiding spot and shut and locked the door. The Girl picked up on the significance.

"Fucking slavers." She gritted her teeth and pulled up a map of Lohse on her omni-tool. The Girl began studying it and found a spot to sit on some crates.. Wendy and Deckard left her and the Doc alone and took a couple of steps to look out an eye-level window.

"This looks like a good spot Deck." Wendy began to look around and found a battered crate. "The window is a bit high, but we'll put the crate under it so have a straight shot."

"Yeah, but I won't be able to move around." He kicked the crate to test how sound it was. It didn't crumple in on itself so he supposed that was good enough. "Don't you need my gun for the assault?"

"We'll have enough guns when Davy and the others arrive."

"And if they don't?" Deckard asked bluntly.

"I need you here. I need The Girl and her biotics with me."

"Don't be stupid! Just two of you assaulting a garrison full of turian and batarian slavers?" Deckard grabbed Wendy's arm firmly but not forcefully. "I…"

"We need to turn on that beacon, Deck. Brennan didn't believe Davy, he might think the loss of comms is just the storm. Also, if the Alliance received the _Shetland's_ emergency beacon, they might be arriving now. Either way, we need to activate the beacon."

Deckard slumped his shoulders and looked away from her in a pout. "I should go with The Girl."

Wendy laughed. "I'm not watching someone younger than me die in a suicide run. Not when I can be in their place."

"It's what I signed up for, isn't it?"

Wendy gave him a smile. "You signed up to be a Steward, isn't that right? I'm old enough to give my life to protect these people. And it's my decision. Deck, I need your rifle behind me."

Deckard nodded and Wendy clapped him on the back.

"I've got bad news," The Girl said from where she sat on a crate. "The thirty minute mark passed while you two were having that moment of yours. Where's-"

"Where's Davy?" Wendy asked for her. The asari gave a tiny nod with her head. Wendy thought for a moment. "We wait. They haven't turned off the local power here. Probably took everyone in the vicinity and kept a localized grid up."

"Then can't all of these houses be filled wi' slavers?" Doc asked. The question hung in the air as sunlight broke through the window.

"We're about to find out." To punctuate her words Wendy unclipped the shotgun from her back and nodded to The Girl.

* * *

Up next the exciting conclusion of Act II!

Chapter 4 - ...A Shining Beacon

 **Thank you to everyone who has continued to follow the story. I write these for the story but I'm happy it makes you happy. Show some love by favoriting and following. Show extra love by leaving a review.**

* * *

 **A/N:** _While part of my issue was writer's block, another part was sheer mental exhaustion. I love writing and I loved creating the outline for this story but I was exhausting myself writing late into the night. I think the last chapter suffered for it. This chapter suffers a little from it as well but I've tried to clean up my poor writing. I also am beginning to realize I don't like writing combat scenarios. I think Katkiller does a great job in his. I'll find my stride here though, we do have another fight before the end. I know it's a spoiler warning but the beacon is activated. Well shit, couldn't have a story series without Deckard...right?_

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

Seabo79: Hopefully you and everyone else are starting to get a sense of The Girl. And if not, well, that might be by design as well ;)


	10. Act II: Chapter 4 - A Shining Beacon

**I don't own Mass Effect, my apologies**

 **A/N:** _Yeah, so Author's Notes at the beginning of a story aren't a good sign. It appears I put the wrong dates for the events in Chapters 2 and 3. I will go back and fix those, but those following along at home, the events of Chapters 2 and 3 took place on 1 May 2179 (as the Brits like to write it), not on 30 April 2179. We didn't skip a day, below is the correct date. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Act II: Distress  
** **Chapter 4 - ...A Shining Beacon**

 _05-02-2179, 0409 Galactic Standard Time  
_ _Lohse, Ontarom, Newtown System, Kepler Verge, Milky Way Galaxy_

* * *

As dawn broke across the village of Lohse, Wendy Kolthani and The Girl left the storage shed and ran towards the corner of the nearest building. Wendy flexed her fingers on the pistol grip of her Hurricane. The heft of the weapon reminded Wendy of her love of close-quarters weapons drills back during her own Basic training. It was why she stuck with a shotgun for shore party missions throughout her Alliance career.

She was about to give the order to start the breach when a huge explosion occurred in the direction of the gatehouse they had occupied early yesterday morning. Wendy and The Girl saw the fireball and she couldn't help but give a weak smile. Davy and the marines were still alive and trying like hell to help them. They heard movement in the building they were using for cover and dropped to the ground, pressing themselves as close to the building as they could.

Dr. MacDonnell had been right. From their building and three other surrounding buildings, turians and batarians came out in a run. Wendy counted eleven slavers running towards the explosion. Some were finishing getting their armor on while others were already fully prepared for battle. She crawled forwards to get a view of the garrison building but saw no movement. Either the slavers occupying the building were under strict orders to stay where they were or no one was in the building. After watching the last of the slavers run off, Wendy reached back and slapped The Girl on the shoulder.

The Girl muttered something in Thessian but nodded her head. They gathered themselves up and Wendy gave a couple more deep breaths to steel herself for what she was about to do. She glanced down and double-checked her omni-tool and it showed her overloads primed and waiting. The plan was simple: The Girl would hack through the door and Wendy would throw both overloads in as quickly as possible. Between the first and second grenades, The Girl would throw up a barrier. Then...well they just knew they had to turn on the distress beacon.

That was the plan they had hastily assembled once Davy and the marines hadn't shown up. Yet both women knew it would be a miracle if they could pull it off.

Wendy gave another nod, rocked back on her heels once, and then took off at a sprint for the garrison building. She churned her legs as fast as she could, the time it took to get to the front of the building seemingly stretching out. She realized too late that she was making a lot of noise and tried to slow down before skidding in the dirt and clacking into the side of the building. The Girl was there next to her, a look of concern in her eyes, but she knelt by the door and brought up her omni-tool to start hacking the door. She muttered something while she worked which Wendy thought was "Would be nice if we could just use some omni-gel."

Wendy swept the area with her eyes, making sure none of the slavers had come back. It was then the sound of small arms fire picked up from the direction of the explosion. The sound filled her with hope and she had a wide, knowing smile when The Girl looked up at her. The Girl returned the smile and then gave a nod.

Wendy returned the nod and flexed her right hand fingers again before she let them carry the whole weight of her shotgun. She primed a grenade out of its holster, starting the timer, as The Girl spun away from the door and opened it at the same time. Wendy threw the first grenade in and reached for the second, priming it in the process. When she looked up she saw a translucent purple sheen in front of her and on the other side was a grimacing batarian who leveled his shotgun. The slaver fired from the hip as the first overload went off. Wendy purposefully fell backwards and tossed the second grenade into the building as the rounds were slowed by The Girl's barrier. The batarian fired again, causing his weapon to overheat.

The second overload detonated and Wendy fired her Hurricane from her back. The batarian's face was torn to shreds by the blast. The Girl dropped her barrier and threw in one of two fragmentary grenades. Since she whipped it in on its edge, the grenade ricocheted off the wall to the left of the doorway and went deeper into the main room. More shouts were heard from inside before the dull thud was heard. Wendy scrambled up from her back and joined the asari.

Neither wanted to cross the doorway and neither wanted to be the first into the room. But Wendy was an Alliance sailor and knew that distress beacon needed to be activated. She gritted her teeth, edged The Girl out the way, and took a quick breath before poking her head around the door frame. She was met by blasts from several weapons which completely overwhelmed the shields around her helmet almost immediately.

She threw her head back around the doorway. "FOUR GUNS!" She yelled over the cacophony of gunfire being thrown towards the door.

The Girl nodded but tapped Wendy on the shoulder when the human turned her head away again. "How many people!?" This question was followed up with her never-changing, face-contorting grin, causing Wendy to roll her eyes. The asari, who still didn't have a weapon drawn, made a fist with her hand then flexed out her fingers quickly. Wendy gave her a raised eyebrow and The Girl then made an exaggerated throwing motion with her whole left arm. The Girl then pointed at the sailor's shotgun and mimicked firing off a round.

They shifted positions again. The Girl tapped her foot rapidly before she poked the left side of her body around the doorframe and sent out a biotic throw towards the batarians. She gracefully spun across the door to stand on the left side as Wendy followed up by stepping into the doorway and firing off two quick rounds with her shotgun into the staggered aliens.

Wendy noticed that, indeed, there were only four slavers left fighting. It was only prudent to take one shot, so Wendy took two. The first blast caught a batarian on the right side of the room, depleting his shields. The second blast finished him off but Wendy's own shields were reduced to nothing once again and her left arm took a beating before she half jumped back out of the doorway.

The Girl finally had her sniper rifle out and the blast as Wendy jumped out of the way was near-deafening. Two more slavers remained. But Wendy knew that blast, even as gunfire could still be heard off in the distance when their own battle had its lulls, would surely draw attention. Their clock was ticking.

Wendy's left arm felt wet under her armor. She dropped her shotgun and fished some medi-gel out of a leg compartment. She slammed the packet into the correct port on her left shoulder, the mechanism distributing the substance down her arm. It wasn't precise, but it would do the trick. She would need Doc to look at the arm afterwards.

The two slavers inside the building started firing again to keep the two women away from the door. Suddenly a round rang off the outer wall behind Wendy. She instinctively ducked her head and then looked around to see who had shot at her. The only thing she noticed was Deckard's sniper rifle wildly swinging from side to side out of the storage building's window. He must have shattered the window, probably with the round that rang off the garrison building.

The wild swinging of the barrel stopped and he exaggeratedly swept his rifle to the right twice before keeping it pointed in that direction. So they _had_ drawn attention. She met The Girl's eyes and tapped her wrist to indicate they were out of time. The Girl bit her lip, collapsed her sniper rifle, and gathered biotic energy. Wendy realized she was about to charge and got an overload primed as quickly as possible.

Even though her left arm was dulled from pain and the medi-gel, Wendy was able to weakly fling the overload into the building. There was a surprised guttural cry very close to the door and the grenade exploded just inside the door, showering Wendy and The Girl in its crackling explosion. Instead of charging into the room, The Girl shot out her right arm and pulled it back quickly.

Two batarians came flying out of the door and were thrown across the street. They slammed head first into another building. When Wendy was sure neither of them were moving, she hefted her shotgun into her right hand and cautiously entered the building. Her visual sweep of the main room confirmed three dead batarians. The sailor rushed over to the the middle terminal of the desk while The Girl stepped into the main room and used her omni-tool to shut the door she had hacked open some ten minutes earlier.

The Girl let Wendy work at activating the beacon as she carefully examined the killed slavers. None wore any identifying marks or armor colors so they either had to be from a low-level Terminus warlord or they were all mercenaries. But mercenaries would be hard to coordinate on this scale and in these numbers so her credits were on a warlord's forces. While normally loathe to loot from the dead, a beautiful, blue submachine gun lying on the floor caught her eye. She crouched down and examined it. Aside from its non-standard blue exterior there were, again, no identifying marks on the weapon. The gun was too elegant for Batarian State Arms to produce. Everything that came out of that shithole was utilitarian, boxy, and gray.

The Girl jumped when Wendy let out a triumphant cry when she activated the distress beacon. The smuggler had been so engrossed in the gun all she could do was cry out a warning as a sixth batarian pumped two rounds from his shotgun into Wendy's back. The Girl recovered quickly and gave a guttural yell as she mashed the trigger of the SMG, letting it fire continuously into the sixth batarian until it overheated.

The batarian ended life as a bloody mess against the back wall. The Girl rushed over to Wendy's slumped over body, hoping for any sign of life. Red splatter on the other wall didn't give her much hope but she cradled Wendy's body in her arms and laid her on the floor. The movement drew a sharp gasp from the sailor as her hands reached out to hold onto The Girl's arms.

Knowing she couldn't save her alone, The Girl broke radio silence.

"Deckard! Doc! Your girl's taken a beating! I need help!" The Girl looked down at the broken woman in her arms and unhooked Wendy's helmet, drawing a flutter from her half-closed eyelids.

Deckard came back over the comms. "I'm coming over!" A sniper rifle cracked outside and about ten seconds later something hit the door.

It was then The Girl realized she had forgot to open the door. She laid Wendy on the ground and quickly entered the commands into her omni-tool to open the garrison's door. While she was entering the commands Deckard fired his sniper rifle again and ducked inside as the door slid open. He then threw an incendiary grenade back the way he had come.

"Close it!" He yelled.

"I am!" She yelled back at the sailor while the door slammed shut.

Deckard ran over to where Wendy and The Girl were on the ground and threw his sniper rifle on the desk. "We need to get her armor off and roll her onto her side."

The Girl began to work the latches to separate Wendy's front and back chest pieces while Deckard pulled out medi-gel packets and bandages from his armor. They worked quickly as Wendy let out weak groans and being jostled. The color was slowly draining from her face.

Wendy gave a gasp as The Girl rolled her towards her to bring up her back. The back armor piece fell off with a sickening noise as blood began to slowly ooze out from the woman's body. Deckard poured packet after packet onto the wounds, staunching the flow of blood. He was about to put a bandage on Wendy's back when The Girl's bloody left hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Deckard!" The steward focused his eyes on the smuggler. And, as the words came out of her mouth, he already knew. "She's gone kid. I'm sorry." The Girl's voice broke in raw emotion and she pulled Wendy's head, still in her right arm, a little closer to her body.

Deckard threw the bandage against the wall with a raging yell. He stumbled up and took his sniper rifle in his hand.

"What are you gonna do kid? Go out in a blaze of stupidity?"

"Better than being shot in the back…" Deckard swung the sniper rifle at The Girl's head. "You're working with them, aren't you?" The Girl opened her mouth to protest. "AREN'T YOU!?"

The Girl slowly lowered Wendy's body back down on the floor. "Don't you **ever** accuse me of working with slavers! **EVER**! I fucked up kid, okay? I. Fucked. Up. I'm as sleep-deprived as anyone here and have been using my goddess-damned biotics. So, yeah, I fucked up."

The Girl was standing and glared at Deckard before he meekly lowered the barrel. That was when the door blew in and wrapped up like a scroll.

An incendiary grenade was thrown into the room. The Girl managed to get a barrier up to shield most of the explosion. Deckard could only duck behind the desk. He threw his left arm up to cover his face as the thermite paste rained down. The paste burned through his armored glove and gauntlet and he writhed on the ground trying to get the burning material off of his arm as he screamed about the pain.

The Girl dropped her barrier and almost collapsed next to Deckard due to the strain of using her biotics as she knelt beside him to help. She quickly, but clumsily, helped pull off his gloves and greaves. Upon hearing a noise at the doorway, she looked up and instantly reacted by doing something she had never done before, a biotic bubble.

The assault rifle rounds skidded across the bubble as The Girl struggled to keep the barrier up and stay conscious. The barrier flickered once before failing. The turian sneered at them cowering behind the desk. Raising his rifle one more time he was stopped by the roar of engines overhead.

The turian took a step outside to see what was going on when The Girl picked up her SMG lying on the floor under the desk in front of her and gunned him down, firing underneath the metal desk. She had little energy to stop the recoil and the gun slammed into the bottom of the desk, knocking it from her hands,. Her exertion in the last 40 seconds was too much and she fell down next to Deckard.

The sailor cursed out an oath since she landed on his burnt arm. Ripping the pistol from his side he propped himself up using his right arm and got into a kneeling position. The motion made him immediately fall over onto his left side, which produced another string of profanities since he landed on his burnt arm.

Deckard heard the sound of gunfire pour in from outside. Soon he heard the sound of boots coming up to the building's door and tried to scoot himself along the ground to get a better angle to fire on these new intruders. Still holding the pistol in his right hand he raised the weapon as two humans in heavy armor filed into the building with their assault rifles at the ready. Seeing the friendly dark blue of the Alliance, Deckard let his outstretched arm flop on the floor as he rolled onto his back and cradled his left arm.

"Commander! I've got a bloodbath in here!" The first Alliance marine said.

From outside a well-built man in medium armor emblazoned with the prestigious N7 emblem and without a helmet strode into the building. The dark-skinned man had a deep baritone. "Good, Lieutenant." He nodded at Deckard. "Looks like one of ours. Secure the asari for questioning."

The Lieutenant, the one who called out, came around the desk and tried to restrain The Girl as she limply laid on the floor. The marine reached for her hands to put them behind her back when Deckard kicked him in the side of the head.

"Let her go! We'd be dead if it wasn't for her!"

The second marine brought his rifle up and pointed it at Deckard but the commander came over to the injured sailor and knelt beside him, resting a hand on his right shoulder. "Calm down, son, we're here to help. I'm Commander David Anderson of the _SSV Hastings_ , we're answering the _Shetland's_ distress signal." Anderson turned his head to the lieutenant. "Lieutenant, it looks like both of them could use some medical attention." His eyes narrowed on Wendy's bloody body and her batarian killer slumped against the wall next to all of them. "We need to get them to a doctor quickly and find out what happened here!"

Deckard finally relaxed as he realized he was safe and this whole horrible ordeal was over. He spoke through gritted teeth as a wave of pain from his arm washed over his body. "Doctor. In marines...storage building," He nodded his head backwards in the direction of the storage building they had all come out of earlier in the day.

"Alright son. Alright." Anderson looked at the marine who had pointed his rifle at Deckard, "Pull up a map of the Alliance's buildings here and find that storage building."

Deckard began pawing at his leg armor and managed to get the spare compartment open. He tried to grab the medi-gel but Anderson took it out for him and began pouring it on his arm.

"Thank you," Deckard answered in relief. "Brennan?"

"Commander Brennan? He isn't here?" Anderson asked with surprise.

Deckard simply shook his head from side to side.

"We made contact with Commander Brennan before coming down, he said he was en route already."

The Girl gave a weak laugh as she was helped up to a sitting position by the lieutenant and handed a canteen. "En route to _what_ , is the question."

"And you are?"

"I'm just a girl," the asari replied coyly.

"Fine," Anderson replied. "What happened here?" He turned to look at down at Deckard. "What happened to your crew?"

"Dead," Deckard replied. "Well, I don't know about the commander…"

"Where was Commander Davidson last seen?"

The Girl answered as Dr. MacDonnell was brought into the building and rushed over to get to work on Deckard. He gasped when he saw Wendy's body but focused on Deckard as his medical priorities kicked in.

"They were by the northwest gate tower, we think. An explosion went off around 4:50 in that direction."

Anderson nodded. "Corporal, go up with Charlie squad in a shuttle and do a flyover. Give me a sitrep when you arrive."

The corporal nodded and jogged out of the building.

Dr. MacDonnell had finished bandaging Deckard's arm. "Damn fine sight to see ya, commander." He said with a weak smile. The sound of shuttle lifting off and gunning its boosters could be heard outside. "Been hell to pay down here. Nice that tha navy got the ol' girl's beacon."

"The navy didn't," Anderson replied. "Corsair ship picked it up first. The _Hastings_ was just arriving at Attican Beta when the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ was preparing to make their jump here. I got permission to make sure the Alliance was here to witness the rescue."

The Girl laughed. "So you're saying the Alliance forced you to command this mission when they were caught like two maidens fresh out of university in their matriarch's house?"

Anderson gave the asari a hard look. His retort was interrupted by an unheard comms voice as he reactively tilted his head down to his shoulder just a little. "Damn. Understood, Anderson out."

He looked at the doctor and the injured sailor with pain in his eyes. "There's no one alive at the tower. Four dead humans and two dead batarians."

"They distracted the main force away so we could get in," The Girl explained. She took a drink of water and handed the canteen back to the lieutenant. She grabbed onto the marine's wrist and used him to leverage herself to a standing position. "I'd love to stay and chat when that prick gets here but he doesn't like me very much."

"You need to answer questions about what happened here. Miss…?" Anderson stated in a no-nonsense voice.

The Girl just laughed. "The kid can answer everything you need to know. And, as I said sailor: I'm just a girl." She bent to pick up the SMG and clipped it to her side.

Before leaving she looked down at Deckard and Dr. MacDonnell. "You boys be good. Deckard? You're a good kid," she gave him another face-rending smile before strolling over to the door. "Oh, commander? Make sure you get the _whole_ story from that useless prick Brennan." She winked at the men and strolled out the door and into Ontarom's increasing heat over Anderson's questioning protests.

The commander turned his attention back to the two sailors. "What is this about Commander Brennan?"

Deckard laughed darkly. "He's a self-centered prick."

Dr. MacDonnell patted Deckard's right shoulder. "Commander, the lad an' I 'aven't slept for a day and he needs medical attention. Best move us to this corsair ship."

"Fine, but I need answers." Anderson warned. The lieutenant and the doctor helped Deckard get to his feet and out the door into one of three shuttles that landed in the main street. After Deckard was loaded onboard, along with Dr. MacDonnell, another shuttle came screaming in over Lohse and landed nearby.

The door closed before Deckard could see exactly who it was but knew all too well. It was probably Commander Brennan, offering excuses and explanations for his lack of help. The rocking in his seat as the shuttle tore through the atmosphere eventually lulled Deckard into some much needed sleep.

* * *

 _05-02-2179, 0100  
_ _SSV Queen Anne's Revenge (in orbit), Ontarom, Newton System, Kepler Verge, Milky Way Galaxy_

The clean, and perfectly temperatured, medical bay on the _Revenge_ was the first time Deckard wasn't in fear for his life in the past 40 galactic standard hours. His arm had been worked on to clean the burns and other injuries he had sustained down in Lohse upon his arrival aboard the corsair ship. While Dr. MacDonnell had wanted to help, the medical bay doctor and her one nurse sat the grizzled, and unbathed, doctor on the other bed to rest.

They had finished up two hours ago and Deckard had drifted off to sleep, helped along by the medications he was given. He was awakened when he heard a chime and the sound of the doors open, followed by brief footsteps.

Deckard craned his neck and saw Commander Anderson standing at the foot of his bed. He looked to the left and saw an empty bed next to him where Doc had been earlier. Turning his head back to the commander he gave a nod and a smile before dropping his head back onto the pillow.

"How are you, kid?" Anderson asked again in his room-filling voice.

"Doing fine commander," Deckard said to the ceiling. He slightly raised his bandaged arm. "The doctor said there is some scarring and minor nerve damage, but nothing that will keep me out of service."

"Good to see the corsairs picked a competent doctor." The commander walked up to stand next to Deckard's bed. "Serviceman Russell, I know it hasn't been that long, but I need to know what happened down there. Commander Brennan told me his side of the story-"

"Oh? Which side did that lazy ass give you?"

"You may have gone through hell down there but he is still a superior officer," Anderson warned.

"Fine," Deckard spat out. "Which side did Commander-Who-Couldn't-Lift-A-Damn-Finger-To-Help-Us give you? Sir?"

"The commander told me Commander Davidson contacted him the night of 30 April to inform him of the destruction of the _Shetland_ and the loss of Captain Malonta and Helmsman Markov. How Davidson warned of subsequent, impending attacks which Brennan assured him was not probable since the last patrol scared off pirates just before the _Shetland_ arrived," Anderson held up a hand before Deckard could protest again. "He realizes the connection was bad or he would have been more willing to help-"

"Bull. Fucking. Shit...sir."

"The commander then had to wait for the unusually large electrical storm to pass Lohse before he could safely bring his marines to help secure the village. And that he arrived as quickly as he could this morning."

"The storm stopped in the middle of the night." Deckard stared at the commander as he saw him process the information. "Sir, with all respect, Brennan is a lapdog to something, or someone bigger. The Girl said as much while we were there."

"What girl? Oh, the asari," Anderson replied.

"Yes. The Girl. She claimed there were secret locations on Ontarom which Brennan cared about more than his military responsibilities."

"I'll have to look into it but the fact remains it's only hearsay. This girl of yours-"

"She's not _my girl_. She's **The** Girl," Deckard corrected him. Anderson gave him a quizzical look to which the young sailor responded sheepishly, "For your reports, sir."

"Whoever she is, and however she wants to refer to herself, she didn't stick around to answer questions or provide evidence to those claims. Look son, I see your point about how long it took him to get to Lohse with the 20th Frontier and I'll be sure to note that further investigation is warranted. The man seemed a little too eager to offer explanations and excuses, which I can't stand. I'm half-tempted to believe you just on the basis of principle. But the Alliance doesn't work that way. I'll get an inquiry started and hopefully they'll get to the bottom about what happened. About The Otaka Window. Commander Brennan. Everything."

The medical bay door opened with a freshly shaven Dr. MacDonnell and the _Revenge's_ doctor walking through. She was older, like Dr. MacDonnell, but still seemed younger than him. Fair-skinned with a touch of grey in her dark chin-length hair. They were talking about Deckard's injury when they noticed that Deckard wasn't alone. Dr. MacDonnell held out his hand.

"Commander Anderson, let me properly introduce myself. Dr. Oliver MacDonnell, Lieutenant aboard the…" He ended with a smile to cover the fact that he _had_ no ship anymore.

Anderson pumped his hand once. "The pleasure is all mine doctor. Hell of thing you went through down there."

"Aye, it was. But here I am now. Lost many a good friend down there to those slavers."

"Commander Anderson, is it? I don't believe we've had the pleasure. Dr. Karin Chakwas. Commander in the Alliance, if you want to be formal."

Anderson shook Dr. Chakwas' hand as well. "A pleasure Dr. Chakwas. So you were discussing our young sailor?" Deckard rolled his eyes as the officers started to talk about as if he wasn't even there.

"I was indeed. Serviceman Russell had extensive burns to his left forearm which will cause lasting scars without skin grafts and cosmetic gene therapy. There is some nerve damage but nothing that will keep him from his duties as a steward."

"But someone could stick a knife in my forearm and I wouldn't feel anything?" Deckard said with a smile.

"It would still hurt, there just wouldn't be unbearable pain. I would caution _against_ testing out that theory, though." Dr. Chakwas walked over to her workstation and transferred information from her omni-tool to a datapad. She handed the datapad to Dr. MacDonnell. "I'm turning this patient over to you, as you are now his commanding officer, Oliver. There is room for the both of you in the cabin I have indicated on the pad." She turned to Anderson. "Are we returning back to Arcturus Station, commander?"

"I don't believe so doctor. I'm going to ask the captain to send us back to Attican Beta where the _Hastings_ is waiting for me. Since your captain may not want to come to Arcturus for...reasons, I'll see if I can arrange a transfer."

"That would be wonderful, Commander Anderson. Thank you. The boy needs to recuperate and let the burns heal. Without a ship, I think Arcturus would be the best place for him."

"Thank you, Dr. Chakwas. Dr. MacDonnell," Anderson shook her hand and then the other doctor's hand. He patted Deckard on the shoulder. "We'll get you fixed up, son."

* * *

 _Deckard found himself back on a shadowy plain. The environment was the same, with wisps of gray flamelike tendrils reaching up to him. They were not hot, they were not cold. The gray flames just were. They were around him and through him but never a part of him._

 _Deckard felt fear at his surroundings, the vast blackness seemingly all-consuming. He stepped forward in small steps, through flames not affected by his movement. He heard no sound from his footsteps and couldn't tell if he was moving at all. The black horizon never changed._

 _Deckard thought he walked ten feet before a window in the air opened before him. Where he had been walking in bleak colorlessness the window hurt Deckard's eyes with the vibrancy of its color. The window opened on the perfect nakedness of Bianka Seager, save for a cluster of three gunshot wounds on her abdomen._

 _Deckard stopped and let the flames build around him. Bianka face broke in her intoxicating smile while she spun around with arms raised, showing herself off to him. The room she was in was filled with potted flowers of all different colors. Each flower seemingly chosen to compliment Bianka's latte skin color. As she finished her presenting spin the wounds began to bleed but she paid no attention to the injuries._

 _Deckard reached for her, his voice caught in his throat, and began to walk towards her. The flames reached his eye-level and instantly changed from nothing into something. The orange wisps played off of Deckard's clothing and skin, singing him, burning him. Deckard felt the pain rising as he took several more steps towards the window. It was so close, how could he not have reached it yet?_

 _Finally he was at the window, the pain excruciating, but nothing would keep him from helping Bianka. He placed his hands on the 'sill' of this strange window when it blinked out and he was left in a field of fire. Deckard hung his head and sank to his knees, letting the flames take him._

Deckard woke up from the nightmare with a start. The surprisingly spacious guest cabin on _Queen Anne's Revenge_ was shrouded in darkness. Deckard patted his body down in an act of reassurance that he was out of his flame-filled dream. Dropping back down into bed, he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm.

Deckard closed his eyes but all he could see was Bianka.

"Shit."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading again! Don't forget about leaving a review, following, and favoriting if you like the story. You can ask me anything! I'll give you some bullshit answer. JUST KIDDING! Seriously though, if you like it, show it!**

* * *

 **A/N** : _David Anderson AND Dr. Chakwas? Let me explain. What we know from canon is that David Anderson was a lieutenant aboard the_ Hastings _in 2165 during the events of Mass Effect: Revelation. We then hear nothing except that he commanded the_ Tokyo _briefly before being pegged as the captain of_ Normandy _. But that was in 2183. So we can assume Anderson was still on_ Hastings _acting as her XO. If I remember he was stationed on the Citadel for a time with Kahlee Sanders? Shit I think, but let's smooth over that since it isn't widely known. So, it fits to have Anderson still aboard the_ SSV Hastings _.. Now, onto Dr. Karin Chakwas: She tells Commander Shepard she has worked with Anderson for years and has known him for a long time as well. She also tells Shepard that she knows how Anderson handles missions. Bada bing, bada boom! We'll get how they actually work together later on._

* * *

 **Review Responses**

Katkiller-V: Thanks for reading and for confirming chapter 2 wasn't that good ;)

Seabo76: Confidence boosts are always appreciated. Love the feedback.


	11. Interlude B: Westerlund News Article

**I don't own Mass Effect.**

* * *

 **Interlude B**

 _06-12-2179  
_ _Reykjavik Fighter Base - SA, Reykjavik, Iceland, Earth_

* * *

 _Alliance Begins New Recruitment Campaign  
_ Shawn Faherty - Westerlund News. ' _Fair. Mostly Balanced.'_

Five Alliance fighters sat arranged with their noses in a wide semicircle in a nondescript hanger on Reykjavik Fighter Base, situated on the outskirts of Reykjavik, Iceland. The fighters sported new, gleaming paint on their hulls: predominantly black with a single stripe of blue on either side of the nose and engine flanges and several blue streaks on each wing. The paint scheme was a far cry from the regulation Systems Alliance red and white scheme all other fighters in service sported on their hulls.

These multi-billion credit starships were piloted by a squad who was a far cry from their fellow Systems Alliance pilots. This squad had racked up an impressive mission completion record in the two years since they were formed. They had participated in publicly acknowledged engagements with moderate flotillas of pirates and slavers in the Attican Traverse and rumors spoke of disavowed missions against batarian interests within Hegemony space. Their high success rate paired with the flash and flamboyance every pilot in the squad exuded had brought them here, to Reykjavik.

Five squad members stand in the middle of the hanger in a smaller semicircle. Each of the highly-skilled pilots wearing their newly issued, custom-tailored, all-black flight suits. Each pilot stood at the nose of their personal fighter. Three men and two women with perfect white teeth, glistening hair in all different shades, and the strong, chiseled features many would call "gorgeous." They were well-known in the Alliance Navy and now they were being made into celebrities throughout Systems Alliance space.

Several videocams floated in front of the pilots. Capturing every smile, every wave, every wink of an eye. They were going to be touted as part of humanity's ascendancy into a bigger role among the Citadel races. Their likenesses used throughout Systems Alliance space on every colony and in every frontier town as the "new" face of the Alliance. Each haptic video advertisement for the Alliance armed services would feature one of the five pilots, personally asking the viewer to set up an appointment with their local recruitment office by touching on the display.

Everything in this hanger was orchestrated to bring about new recruits for the Systems Alliance in a patriotic and subliminal sexually alluring way. The flight suits, while entirely functional, were designed to accentuate each pilot's musculature and other bodily attributes. They were just a little tight in the crotch for the men and were similarly tight, with some added boost, to the women's chests. This was sex, guns, and the Systems Alliance. The three things most 18-25 year olds couldn't get enough of – well, the demographic Systems Alliance brass were targeting in their newest recruitment drive.

These ideal specimens of Alliance Navy physique and pretty faces also sported callsigns which completed their personas as the best the Alliance could produce. There was Lieutenant Yuri 'Redstar' Huguenot; 2nd Lieutenant Caleb 'Black Magic' Martinez; 2nd Lieutenant June 'Bug' Park; 1st Lieutenant Victor 'Crash' Aragon; and their squad leader, Lieutenant Bianka 'Cheetah' Seager. While the squad was officially 355th Fighter Squadron, designated Yellow Squad aboard the _SSV Einstein_ , they are being touted in this recruiting drive as **'Seager's Sabres'**

Will this revamped and retooled recruiting drive work for the System Alliance? The top officers are betting on it. Things are always looking bleak for humanity out there in the galaxy. Maybe finding enough diamonds in the rough throughout the colonies and Earth is getting harder for the Systems Alliance. Now the Alliance feels they must turn to flashy advertisements and recruiting vids for today's younger generation.

Only time will tell if the Seager Technologies heiress has the ability to bring in tomorrow's soldiers, today.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey there! Hope you like this extra little bit of information. Take it as a cherry on top for a great day of viewing for my little story! Reviewers, I'll get to you at the end of the next chapter. For everyone who's viewed _The Steward_ today, don't forget to Follow and Favorite! Seriously, the button is like, right there. Let's you stay up to date too with cool emails from FanFiction about when new content is released about Deckard and his goings on. Also, I saw that this upload was all incorrectly formatted, so I apologize if the last chapter was crap formatting before I go and look at it after editing this little thing.

 **Don't forget to Follow and Favorite. AND leave a Review! Even if it's just to say hi; ask a question about the story; or offer intellectual insights**


	12. Act III: Chapter 1 - Breakdown

**I don't own Mass Effect, but I do play all the games.**

* * *

 _Approximately one month before the start of_ Another Realm _series by Katkiller-V_

* * *

 **Act III: Signals  
** **Chapter 1 - Breakdown**

 _02-12-2180  
_ _Arcturus Station, L5 Lagrangian Point, Themis, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream, Milky Way_

* * *

The chime rang softly within the darkened room as a solitary form in the bed shifted position under the white covers. The chime continued to play, growing in volume, until a hand reached out from under the covers and slammed down on the end table. The desired effect of turning off the alarm backfired as the integrated haptic interface turned on all of the lights in the room and switched from the chime to blaring a song made popular back in the old United States of America 100 years before.

 _You put the boom boom into my heart,  
_ _You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts._

"Fuuucckkk…"

 _Jitterbug into my brain,  
_ _Goes bang bang bang till my feet do the same._

"Make it stop…" Deckard finally moaned out as he sat up in bed while the upbeat sounds continued to play. He glared at the haptic display. "Nomos I'm up!"

The music stopped playing mid-verse and a pleasant, synthetically male voice spoke from speakers located around the small room. "Good morning, Serviceman First Class Russell! I hope you had a pleasant night. I must inform you that continued aggression against your bedside interface will not turn off the morning alarm any better than simply touching the correct interface icon."

"I hate you, Nomos." Deckard rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as the VI continued.

"My primary function is not to be hated or loved, simply to be of use in keeping everyone on this station on time with their very busy schedules. You have your usual hour of physical therapy with Dr. Oliver MacDonnell in thirty-five galactic standard minutes. Followed by 1.5 hours of consultation with Dr. Wendy Nemchinov before your scheduled lunch of approximately-"

"Nomos?"

"Yes, Serviceman Russell?"

"Please stop."

"Of course, Serviceman Russell. Will you be getting out of bed or should I play some more of this historical music to help you become more awake?"

"I hate you, Nomos." Deckard growled at the VI again as he got out of his bed and padded to his shower stall. Turning the water on hot he hardly spared his left forearm a glance, in fact he actively avoided looking at the limb, as he began to use his right hand to wash. He had become pretty adept at this one-handed technique. At first, since his left hand was still bandaged as the skin regrew, he had no use of it. Then, when the bandages came off, the scarring was so bad it was painful to move the muscles in the hand. He had already undergone one cosmetic surgery two months ago to remove most of the scar tissue but he had refused subsequent treatments to bring the limb back to its pre-burned state.

 _Have you failed enough today?_ The Girl's question nine months ago still echoed in his head each time he thought about fixing his hand. The answer was still the same as it was that night: He had. And the dull pain and deformed hand would remind him of his failures on Ontarom.

Deckard pushed the thoughts out of his mind with a shake of his head and a tightly clenched right hand until his subconscious buried it once again. He shook his head once more and smeared the ritual dollop of shampoo through his buzzed hair before completing his shower. He toweled off using only his right hand again, every movement automatic and repetitious. The face staring back at him was not the same of the serviceman who went to sleep on 30 April last year.

The hard jaw patched with rough, day-old stubble and tight lips spoke of cynicism and anger. The dead eyes spoke of lost innocence and purpose. The crease lines on his forehead spoke of intense stress. Deckard grimaced and narrowed his eyes. Calling himself a few unsavory remarks, he brushed his teeth and gave his face a rough shave without any shaving cream. He then filled a cup with water and downed his three pills. He had given the pills names to make them more appealing. Dull helped with physical pain from his injuries; Calm helped with unpleasant psychological pain brought on by his posttraumatic stress; Level tried to ease the memories.

He liked Calm the best. Mostly since she wasn't a krogan turd sized pill. Having waking nightmares was also not a good thing on the Systems Alliance crown jewel of military and civilian order. So Calm's effect in keeping away that sort of unpleasantness was also welcomed. Level was up there as his best buddy on Arcturus Station, a wingman to keep the demons at bay.

Deckard threw on a duty uniform that would just barely pass muster and picked up his 'A.S.' ballcap to complete his proper attire. Glancing at the end table he saw he had ten minutes left until his physical therapy with Dr. MacDonnell, the only other survivor of two nights in hell. He punched the bed with his right hand and clenched his jaw to bury a surging memory of Bridgette with her nerdy smile before slapping on his omni-tool bracelet. He then pulled a black glove off the end table and put it on over his left hand. The recuperating sailor took a quick breath to steel himself mentally before opening the door to his quarters.

He had initially been assigned a sleeping pod with the rest of the recoveringconvalescing, non-critical patients stationed on Arcturus Station. That assignment had lasted all of 10 seconds before he had a panic attack once the pod door was closed. Thankfully Doc was there as well as the Medical Reserve Division XO. They were able to find personal quarters for him that very night. Nothing too fancy. A bed, desk, sink, mini-fridge, and a single-person shower. Luxury for a serviceman in the Alliance but cramped living quarters for any Alliance civilian.

Still, the door made the difference. Deckard took a deep breath of satisfaction as he locked it behind him. He had shared living spaces for more than three years through basic and on the _SSV Shetland_. No more for him! Living the high life because he's a fucking crippled hero who could still breath thanks to an asari having a biotic epiphany before his eyes.

His sneer caused a young diplomatic bodyguard to shy away from him and move to the other side of the hallway. Deckard wiped the memory from his mind and the sneer off his face but it was already too late. He had really wanted to ask her out to lunch since she arrived on station two weeks ago, too. Deckard shook his head as he realized he had planned last night to ask her out on this very walk to see Doc. Another mental notch on his belt for the multiple ways his life was fucked. Hooray for Deckard.

He threw more insults at himself as he walked the familiar route to the physical therapy ward. The station's hub windows on his left showed the internal beauty that was Arcturus Station's inner wheel. Trees provided natural air recyclers on the inner wheel and parks were spaced in between grottos and "outdoor" courtyards on the station's 5-kilometer diameter wheel. It was a lovely place to hold the center of humanity's military and government. Yet all Deckard could see was a 5-kilometer wheel of roughly 45,000 ignorant morons. Sure, some of the military knew the actual shit the galaxy had to throw at humanity but the sheer multitude of pollyanna's was enough to make Deckard want to stay in his tiny quarters.

His cynicism stopped with his feet when he came to his destination. Putting on a weak smile and straightening his back slightly, he walked through the doors like a man ready to beat his injury. _A smile a day keeps the questions at bay_. The thought made him laugh, which coincidentally occurred when Doc turned to acknowledge him. The genuine laugh sold the facade to the old man.

"Ahh, me lad. Lookin' a might bit better this morn!" Dr. MacDonnell gave him a wide, toothy grin as he thrust his hand out.

"Feeling better, Doc!" Deckard gave him an appropriately firm handshake and tried to match the appropriate level of enthusiasm he thought necessary to continue the sell.

"Let's give it a go, lad. Best to work out the kinks whilst the desire is there to enduring the discomfort."

Doc started Deckard out as he normally did, moving his left hand from a fist to a fully open hand, palm up. This was accomplished easily since Dull was working his sweet, sweet medicated magic. After 15 repetitions, Doc put the gnarled hand into a device which provided various resistance levels and had his patient attempt to pull small levers with his fingers. The pain wasn't so bad and Deckard genuinely liked his progress on this exercise. When he first started, before the second surgery to remove the scar tissue, even trying to move a half pound of weight with his pointer finger came with unbearable pain. After working the finger resistance device for five minutes, Doc gave his hand a rest and began massaging the back of the hand and his forearm.

"Doc, I always like it when you get a nurse to do this." Deckard gave him a thin smile as the doctor massaged his lower forearm, the area that had received the most damage.

"I can get Bernard over here. Most of our female patients really like his soft touch," the doctor said with a sly grin.

"Ha. Ha."

Doc continued to gently massage the hand. After a minute he looked Deckard in the eyes. "Deck, how ya doing lad?"

Deckard flashed the doctor a measured weak smile, "Good days and bad days, as always."

"Mmm. As always," The doctor rested Deckard's hand on the table and moved a knife and fork into the middle of the table. "Time to see what ya got." Deckard reached out with his right hand on instinct. Doc slapped it away. "Do it right."

Deckard rolled his eyes and deftly picked up the table knife with his left hand. The deftness failed as he tried to move it into his palm. The thermite paste had left most nerves on his palm and the back of his hand burnt. The knife almost slipped out and Deckard had to clench his hand into a fist before the utensil fell back onto the table. The twitch movement caused a dull roar of pain in his wrist and hand.

His grimace was noticed. "Dammit lad. How many times I hav' ta say it? Use your left hand outside of this room!"

"Ever heard of bedside manners, Doc?"

"I'll give ya bedside manners when ya start taking this therapy seriously." The stern look in Doc's eyes told Deckard he was actually angry with him.

"And if I don't?" Deckard replied defiantly.

"Then it will never heal correctly. Still want to be a steward?"

"Of course," Deckard answered instinctively.

"Then do your fucking exercises and use that hand," Doc stated quietly. "We're done today."

Deckard stood up and began to walk away from the table before Dr. MacDonnell grabbed his right arm. Deckard looked back at him. "Deckard, my boy... _talk_ to your psychologist."

"I talk to her every damn day."

"Then why the anger and the mask?" Deckard gave him an irritated look which Doc replied to with a frown. "Ya think I don't know ya, boy? I've been on this station with ya every damn day. The Lord knows ya need to get the anger out." Deckard scoffed and pulled his hand away before walking out of therapy. "At least admit it to yourself!" Doc called out as the door closed behind Deckard.

The incident in therapy left Deckard angry and brooding. He had twenty minutes until his appointment with the Alliance psychologist and he was pretty damn sure he wasn't going today. A skipped appointment was nothing. Plenty of bigger basketcases out here in Arcturus for his shrink to worry about. Nope, today Deckard was going to get his head on straight by himself.

When his feet took him to a bar out in the inner wheel he frowned but still went inside. _If I'm here, might as well have a drink_. The bar was unsurprisingly barren at this time of day. Deckard looked around the foyer of the L-shaped building and saw no one in the front dining area. Walking to the back, perpendicular to the dining area, was the bar and Deckard found a turian female sipping some dextro-based alcohol at one of the high tables and a salarian... _male?_...drinking at one of the end bar. The bartender was a young redhead girl that Deckard was also working up the courage to ask out for a bite to eat.

 _Another reason why it's better to be here than talking about my "issues,"_ Deckard justified to himself as he sat down on a barstool. He began to think about what he wanted. The internal discourse did not take long, he wanted beer. Hard stuff, especially the asari liquors, were for his rare nighttime escapades. Now, he just wanted a buzz and see if he could roll the dice and chat up the fine looking bartender.

Deckard lifted up his index finger. "Naomi, a cold one please."

The bartender, Naomi, walked over to Deckard from cleaning down the middle of the bar. "One problem, sailor. What kind? We've got Terran, Colonial, or Spacer brews. Even some Asari lagers."

"Earth, all the way. What kinds?"

Naomi blinked once before looking at him with some playful derision in her eyes. "You want me to name all 250?"

"Oh. Uh, whatever you like," Deckard answered sheepishly.

"Well then it's good ol' Icelandic Light."

"What? Fu- Forget that crap! I want beer, not flavored water."

Naomi put a hand on her hip. "Look sailor, you said whatever I like. Maybe I like watered-down crap beer?"

He thought this was going well so he gave her a smile. "Maybe I drink your taste in crap beer but I'll show you better brews over lunch tomorrow?"

The cute bartender poured out the beer from the tap. "Sounds good, can my girlfriend come along?" She nodded her head at the asari sitting at the table across the room.

Deckard swiveled in his barstool as he caught the asari's eye. She gave him a little wave with her hand and a smirk. "Your friend? Sure...I suppose so."

"Good! We've been talking about getting out more since we moved in together. Just mostly been all work for the both of us and no time to enjoy the station together." Naomi put the beer down in front of Deckard. "That'll be 10 credits."

"Moved in together?" Deckard sent the payment from his omni-tool. "Nice to have someone to room with."

Naomi gave him a quizzical look. "Yes," she said slowly. "Especially since she's my girlfriend."

Deckard deflated as it dawned on him what he was being told. "Oh…"

"Not so keen for lunch tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry. And no."

"You sure?" Naomi said with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk.

Deckard's face flushed as this new information was slowly digested. He took a big gulp of the disgusting beer. "I...I…"

Naomi laughed. "You think about it sailor," she gave him a wink and went back to tidying up the bar. He thought she swung her hips a bit more than usual as she walked away from behind the bar.

It was an intriguing proposition. Deckard couldn't even believe she was hitting on him back, even with his slightly disheveled appearance. But maybe it was too good to be true? Maybe this was a test. Or, possibly, maybe Deckard didn't hear her correctly and he was wholly out of his element in dealing with these social situations. He never was keen on the social scene and being in the Alliance and devoted to his ship and his crewmates, he never thought of personal relationships.

Well, he thought of one personal relationship but he had been compartmentalizing his time with Bianka as the unmet fantasies of the child he was back then. So his own internal paranoia started to creep up. Calm was doing a shit job of her one task in keeping him even-keeled as the belief that all matter of shit was coming down on him began to pile up in his head.

 _She's just fucking toying with you. Everyone can see you're a goddamn weak loser. Not even good enough to pick up one girl. Had to pick the one with a fetish for the asari. Couldn't even get started with that diplomatic hottie. Justhadtofuckuplikeyoualwaysdoyoulousypieceofshitnogoodmotherfuckinglittleweakpieceofshit. GocrytoyourfuckingmotherbackinVirginiayoupoorexcuseforasailor. Justgoingtoleteveryonedownagain. Justgoingtoleteveryonedieagainyouweakpieceof-_

"ENOUGH!" Deckard threw his beer against the far wall. The glass shattered and Naomi let out a yelp. The Salarian jumped up from his barstool with his omni-tool open and his hand pointed at Deckard. Deckard took a deep breath before he realized what he had done and felt a strong hand on his right wrist.

"Problem?"

He turned to see the asari, Naomi's girlfriend, holding his wrist with her right hand. He immediately recognized her defensive, close-quarters posture. His knees gave out a little and he swayed before collapsing to the ground.

"Doctor…"

"Right. Naomi, get a medic in here," the asari barked out.

"No!" Deckard yelled. "Doctor Nemchinov..." He leaned against the front of the bar and zoned out. Maybe the asari followed his request or didn't. He didn't care. But he didn't want to think right now. He didn't want to do anything right now.

All he thought about was Wendy's bloody back and The Girl clutching the woman to her chest as she died in her arms. The scene replayed in his mind constantly. A deepening sense of foreboding came over Deckard in waves. He sat there, under the barstools with his back against the bar, staring at nothing in particular.

Deckard woke up and found himself in a medical bay. He was sitting up in a bed with pristine white sheets but still wore his duty uniform.

 _Shit!_ _Just had to go and make a scene._

"Unfortunately, you did," said a feminine voice to his right.

Deckard jumped a little in bed and then looked at Dr. Wendy Nemchinov, her regulation science officer uniform doing nothing to help her small, almost frail, body. It was the same thought he always had looking at her. Then again, being attracted to your shrink probably wasn't a good thing. _Maybe she wants to look that way to stave off any kind of attention? I mean, she could put some product in that wonderfully blonde hair. Style it differently, too. Maybe a better fitted uniform to help shape her body. Some high heels-_

"Deckard," Dr. Nemchinov said reaching out a hand. "Deckard, I can hear you."

 _What?_ "What?" He blurted out.

"Don't worry. Doctor-patient confidentiality. And to answer your next question, you were pretty out of it," she tapped the side of her head with an index finger. "Up here."

"Oh…" His head sunk down. "Sorry about what I said about your appearance."

"It's okay Deckard." She gave him a weak smile before pulling out a datapad and opening up her omni-tool interface. "Now, care to explain what happened?"

"I...I don't want to talk about it."

"Deckard if you don't talk about this now, with me, then you probably won't see the inside of a starship again. I understand you are experiencing some tough psychological stress. We need to start to heal _you_. You cannot keep giving me the same old story like you were before."

"You knew?"

"I'm a psychologist Deckard, not some moron with degrees. Yes, I knew you were putting on an act."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I understand that everyone copes differently. Reading and watching you during our sessions proved to me you had underlying stress and remorse over what happened on Ontarom. Am I far off the mark? Would you like to get under this facade and start to let me help you?"

"I don't know," Deckard said quietly. He began to felt very ashamed of how he was acting. Then another part of his mind flared to life, making him feel ashamed for being a bitch about everything going on. He couldn't help Wendy when she was dying so why would he think that he could be helped?

Deckard clenched his eyes shut as well as clenching his right hand into a fist. Dr. Nemchinov broke him out of his memory suppression.

"What was that?" There wasn't any sense of fear in her voice, just inquisitiveness.

"That was nothing. Just some food that didn't agree with…" Deckard's voice trailed off at the look his psychologist gave him. Deckard sat looking at her for awhile. He spoke again in a small voice. "What makes you think I can help myself?"

"I never said you could help yourself. I said I would help you."

"A pity case then?" Deckard said with a dismissive little laugh.

"No. It's my job Deckard."

Deckard stared at her some more before he looked down at himself in bed. He fidgeted a bit with the thin sheets. Internally he was trying to figure out how to phrase everything and whether he wanted to say anything or keep it to himself. He wanted to say nothing. But his career was riding on him getting better, if that was even possible. Maybe he would stay a medically discharged veteran begging on some corner of Fredericksburg...no, Omega, more likely?

"Deckard?" Dr. Nemchinov asked quietly. He looked her in the eyes before slowly drawing in a breath and letting it out again.

"Obviously, I don't know what to do. Nothing I have ever done prepared me for...for what happened on and above Ontarom." He looked away from his shrink and stared at the wall behind her. After a couple of seconds he started again. "I'm a failure, doc. Got through Basic because by the skin of my teeth. Got lucky when I was chosen by Captain Malonta for duty on _Shetland_. Then I watch as all but one of my crewmates die, and I live. I'm a failure. Failing in the navy, failing at life. Yet here I am. Being asked to go along and get better so I can be put on a ship again. _Carry on, son. You did a damn fine job failing down there on Ontarom. Damn shame we don't have the credits to spare to set up a proper patrol flotilla._ " Deckard stopped his mocking voice and took another breath, gathering his thoughts.

"I just want to be a steward. But now I'm a steward with no ship and no crew because they were both destroyed in front of me." Deckard sniffed. "Where do I go from here, doc? I'm not as strong as the men and women that actually make a difference in the Alliance. I'm just me. Clearly I can't cope with any of this bullshit. But yet I'm being asked to 'learn from this' and move on with my life. Move on to what? Huh? Move on to having another group of friends and people I care about taken from me? What then!? What fucking then!?" Deckard slammed his left hand onto the bed. A tear ran down his cheek.

"Have you failed enough?" Dr. Nemchinov asked while taking notes in her datapad.

Deckard's head whipped around and he stared daggers at her. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Alarmed by his tone, the psychologist looked up at her patient. "I asked if you felt if you truly are a failure."

Deckard's eyes narrowed. "That's exactly what you said?" The unspoken accusation was evident in his voice.

"Yes, Deckard." His doctor tapped something on her omni-tool then tapped another icon. He heard his very loud voice end before Dr. Nemchinov's voice started. " _Do you truly feel that you're a failure?_ " She stopped it as Deckard's stone cold question began.

"I'm…" All Deckard could do was cry into his hands. Cry until the realization that he was a broken man came over him. The realization did not help stop his sobs.

…

"Hi Deckard!" Deckard's mom waved at him on screen. "I hope everything is going well? Not too often a high priority message comes from the Alliance requesting your father and I give you a vid call. Especially when all the expenses are paid for. But what am I saying? Just complaining about nothing since my big hero is out there protecting us from-"

"Mom, please…" Deckard said with a moan. "Look, is dad there too?"

"He stepped out for a bit to grab some things at the hardware store. You know, that shop opened by that upstanding salarian man. Oh, what's his name? Freako? Fresam?"

"Caidoro?"

"Yeah! That's it!" His mom gave a very mom-ish laugh. "I don't know _where_ I was going trying to think of his name? But listen to me prattle on. Tell me about Arcturus Station! Is it nicer than your ship?"

Deckard just stared at his mother, ignorant and happy as always.

"Deckard? Did the picture freeze, honey?"

"No mom, I'm still here." Deckard looked at Dr. Nemchinov, who was sitting out of frame to his left. She gave him an encouraging smile. "Mom, we need to talk."

"Oh no. You got a girl pregnant."

"Mom!"

"Well, what's her name? I know we thought this would happen, especially after that girl in Basic. What was her name? Beyonce? Brianna? Bonell? Bonell, no that's not a real name-"

"Mom! I didn't get anyone pregnant. And her name was Bianka. Bianka Seager."

"Yes, that's it! She was a bit old for you, honey. You know that right?"

Deckard sighed and put his head in hands. "I never should have let that slip to dad after I had those drinks."

"Well, your father did the right thing by telling me. Why you wouldn't tell your own mother, who wiped your bare butt when until you were four years old because you couldn't."

"Mom? Seriously?" Deckard's mother turned to her right and yelled off screen.

"Chester! He's on the line now!" A pause. "Well I told you not to go out and get those condensers!" Her voice returned to normal as Deckard's father approached the home terminal. "I think we would have been just fine if you waited."

"Meredith, I said I needed to get those things or we'd be swimming in electricity bills. Damn Asari-run conglomerations. Hi son! How you doing?" His father gave him a wave and a big grin as he pulled a chair up next to his mother.

"Well thankfully he hasn't gotten a girl pregnant. I was just scolding him for that girl he was seeing up in Providence."

"Oh Mere, Bianka was a nice girl from what Deck told me. Isn't that right?" His father gave Deckard a wink, which earned him a slap on the shoulder from his mother.

"Have some manners Chester! That girl is old enough to be your daughter."

"But she'd be a rich daughter."

"Guys! Seriously, it hasn't been that long since we spoke. This is kind of important, hence the High Priority message and the fact that the navy is footing the bill."

"Sorry, son. Just happy to see you," his father said with a toothy grin. "So what's going on?"

Deckard looked again to his left and saw Dr. Nemchinov actually give him a thumbs up. He took a deep breath. _Best get it over with_. "Mom. Dad. I...I...I'm not good. I have a lot of problems, mental problems, from what happened ove- after _Shetland_ was destroyed."

"Oh son," his mother with her always comforting voice, a trace of a sniffle at the end. "We're always here for you."

"That's right, Deckard. We may be on Earth, but we are here for you."

"Thanks guys, I know. It's just…" He looked at Dr. Nemchinov again. "I had a bad episode today. Threw a beer at a wall. Scared several patrons at a bar. I'm calling you...I'm calling because my shrink says it's will help me process what I've been keeping in my head, to myself. Mom. Dad. I'm...I'm not a hero. The heroes were all of my dead crewmates. They gave their lives for me and Doc. And for those- And for others." He was on the verge of tears again. "And...And I feel like I should have died with them." Tears were streaming down his face. And his mother's face. His father sat taking it all in.

"I'm a broken man. And I need to start admitting that. My friends were all aboard _Shetland_. And I...I watched some of them die. I failed at doing my job to help my crew. I failed them. I can't tell you much but, it wasn't pretty what happened. And I...I'm just a mess. Don't know what to do. So Dr. Nemchinov thought it best I reach out to you. To bring you in, so to speak."

His mother blew her nose and continued to cry. His father's eyes were red, clearly trying not to get emotional. His voice broke as he started to speak. "Deckard...Deckard, my son. You survived. I knew a guy at the office who was a veteran of the marines. Survivor's guilt is what he called it. Sometimes he couldn't come in to work. Sometimes he got himself thrown in jail, drinking mostly. But Deckard, he was a _good man_. A good man." His father sniffed loudly.

"You are my son. You may fail at some things in life but Deckard, your only chance at failing in this is if you keep thinking you didn't do enough. I...I um. Shit. I could say any number of things but I need you...I _want_ you to know: you aren't a failure Deckard Russell. You're my boy."

Deckard blew his nose and gave his father a weak smile. His mother blew her nose as well and held onto her husband's hand on top of the table.

"Deckie. What is all this talk about not having friends?" His mother asked, sniffing still. Deckard gave her a questioning look. "I thought you were calling because you and Bianka...you know…spent a night together?"

"Mom, I haven't seen Bianka in three years. Not since Providence."

"Well that's not right that she didn't come and find you." His mother said getting a little angry.

"Meredith, that's not until," His father looked up from the terminal at the wall behind it. "What date is it there Deckard?"

Deckard was thoroughly confused as he answered his parents question. "It's the 12th of February. Why?" A data file was transferred over the vid call by his father. Deckard opened it as his father read it to him.

"We got this flyer in the mail from the Alliance. Announcing 'Seager's Sabre's' and their tour of Local Cluster stations and bases. Their last stop is Arcturus Station. Tomorrow."

"Seager's Sabre's?" The data file showed Bianka looking as beautiful as ever standing front and center of four other pilots around her age, who flanked her two to either side. She was every bit the woman he fell for in Basic and the sight of her caused his face to flush a little.

"Deckard, everything okay?" Dr. Nemchinov asked.

"I...She's coming here?"

His mother answered for him. "Oh Deckie. Don't go searching her out. Isn't Arcturus a big station? I don't think you need any more stress in your life. Maybe just try to sit with your psychologist and work things out? If you aren't doing well honey, you need to get help."

"Deckard, your mother is right. Sorry we brought this up but I don't think another casual fling is what you need."

"I know guys...I know." He looked at Dr. Nemchinov again. "I will talk with the doctor. Mom? Dad? I know it wasn't much. I know it we haven't talked for long. And I know I'm not better. But...but it was good to tell someone. I'll try to write more about what I'm going through. I'll try to stay on top of everything. Just...just be there for me, okay?"

"Oh honey," his mother said, tears welling in her eyes again. "We are _always_ here for you."

"That's right Deckard. We didn't stop being your parents because you grew up, moved away, and joined the navy." His dad gave him another toothy smile. "I love you son. No matter what."

"I love you too, dad." His mother blew him kisses and started to cry again.

"I love you, Deckie. Always green grass."

Deckard smiled at her common parting phrase. "Always green grass at home, I know mom. I love you."

Deckard ended the call and slumped his shoulders. He didn't feel like crying. He felt a little better. He wasn't lying to his parents. He wasn't lying to himself. But he was far from good.

"What are you thinking, Deckard?" Dr. Nemchinov inquired.

"That you were right."

"I'm glad you are feeling better. Though this discussion about a past girlfriend is interesting. And, I must agree with your parents: it would **not** be a good idea to go see her expecting sex."

Deckard laughed and looked up at the doctor. "That blunt huh? Don't go see her?"

"No. Don't go and see her expecting any sort of physical pleasure to bury the pain. But you need more people to connect with, so I say you should at least try to connect with her. I think that would be a good step. Let's meet again tomorrow morning." She pulled up her omni-tool. "Yep, the photo-op and press conference are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon." Her omni-tool flashed red, catching her eye. "Oh! This is **not** protocol."

Deckard was confused, wondering what she was referring to. He was about to ask her when the doctor looked at him again.

"Deckard, Captain David Anderson has sent through a high-priority call for you." She rolled her eyes as she told him what was going on. "I'm being ordered to tell you to answer it. Sorry Deckard but our time's over. I'm going to open the call and," she shook her head closed her eyes to rein in her growing frustration. "I'm being forced to leave my office so you can answer it."

"Really?" The psychologist's omni-tool interface began to pulse red faster.

"Yes. Really." She swiped her right hand across the omni-tool, transferring the vid call to the screen on her wall. David Anderson's face appeared in a captain's dress uniform.

"Serviceman Russell. Dr. Nemchinov, sorry for the interruption." Anderson said in his unique room-filling voice. Deckard stood up and offered the officer a salute.

"Oh, it's nothing captain," Dr. Nemchinov answered as she angrily stuffed datapads into a leather briefcase. She slung the briefcase over her shoulder and began heading for the door. But she stopped before exiting. "Captain, he isn't in the best of places right now. Keep that in mind when you tell him whatever is getting me kicked out of my own office." The very irritated doctor looked at Deckard. "Deckard, the door will lock behind you once you leave. I'll see you tomorrow at the usual time."

Deckard simply nodded his head and turned back to look at the vid screen. He heard the door close behind him. " _Captain_ Anderson?"

"That's right Russell. Our little encounter on Ontarom got me promoted and in command of the _SSV Tokyo_. That's why I'm reaching out to you. I've got a proposition."

* * *

 **Thanks for continuing to read everyone. I appreciate all of the support. Don't be afraid to drop me a review, even if you are a guest. Let me know what you thought or just say hi! Don't forget to Follow and Favorite to stay up to date when new chapters are released.**

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

Katkiller-V - I'm glad you appreciated the appearance of _Queen Anne's Revenge_. This is the Corsair Saga after all, had to introduce them at some time. Also, glad you like the last chapter the best. Now as to whether Bianka will die horribly? All I can say is…

seabo76 - The Girl will appear again but probably not anytime soon. And no, she is not Peebee :)

Meatzman2 - Glad you found my little story and thanks for the support. The interlude _was_ a departure from the rest of the story but it was information I didn't want to put into an Act III chapter. But there had to be a reason for it, right?


	13. Act III: Chapter 2 - A Walk

**I don't own the Mass Effect IP. I own the games for my own enjoyment, as you should too.**

* * *

 **Act III: Signals  
** **Chapter 2 - A Walk**

 _02-12-2180  
_ _Arcturus Station, L5 Lagrangian Point, Themis, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream, Milky Way_

* * *

Deckard Russell still couldn't believe the way his day was going. First, he had a mental episode due to his depression and ongoing posttraumatic stress. Then, he finds out from his parents that Bianka Seager was coming to Arcturus Station tomorrow. Now, a man who led the team that helped save his life on Ontarom was offering him a position aboard his new starship.

Deckard narrowed his eyes at the vid screen as he leaned against Dr. Nemchinov's desk. "So when do you need to know, captain?"

"I will give you some time to think it over Deckard. I saw what you went through down on Ontarom, spoke with Dr. MacDonnell, and reviewed the rest of the evidence for myself. I need someone like you aboard my ship if I'm going to have the best damn crew in the Alliance."

"Thanks for that remarkable vote of confidence."

"I do my homework, son. Dr. MacDonnell told me that all you want to be is a steward. I can't offer you that. What I _can_ offer you is the chance to be a steward and work in tandem directly with me protecting the Alliance's interests deeper in the Traverse. Nothing major. I'm not going to tap you for every shore party but your skill with a sniper rifle was noted in Lohse. I need sailors with those types of skills."

"Captain...I'm not exactly in the best of shape right now. And I don't really know if I want to put myself in those situations again like what happened down on Ontarom."

"I'm not going to lie, serviceman. You got a raw deal in Lohse. And you should be damn proud that you were able to get out of there alive. I'm going to look into whatever is troubling you now Russell, since it appears I'm a bit out of the loop as to any extenuating circumstances. It was my belief you wanted to be on a ship and part of a crew again?"

"Yes, sir. But I can't do that if my head isn't on straight, which it isn't at all."

"Fair enough. I'll can only give you 5 days to think it through. That's when _Tokyo_ will be at Arcturus to pick up new crewmembers and head off into the Traverse leading the 78th Scout Flotilla."

"Understood, sir." Five days wasn't a lot of time but Deckard thought Anderson was making it somewhat clear he had no better options. Truthfully, Deckard _didn't_ have better options on the table. The nagging feeling of what he just went through was a major drawback to fully embracing this opportunity as well. While Deckard hadn't always been reserved in his life he wasn't about to go galavanting across the Traverse. He still felt it was too soon after his ordeal above and on Ontarom. Arcturus Station was sterile and ignorant but it was safe.

"Good, good. I've got bad news too, Deckard. I initially agreed with your assessment about Commander Lionel Brennan and, after digging some more, I now wholeheartedly agree with your assessment of Commander Brennan. In my mission report I noted that the commander's absence from Lohse and lack of following standard Alliance procedures directly led to the deaths of all _Shetland_ crew members, except Serviceman Cedric Gray, as well as the entire marine garrison stationed in Lohse."

"Well that's good news, sir." Deckard cocked his head to one side, not seeing where this is going.

"Deckard, my report was squashed once it got to the Review Board. Now, I don't know what's going on but I don't like it when Alliance sailors and marines practically get away with murder."

Deckard felt his fists clench and he pursed his lips together. "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing to do right now, Russell. There's nothing I _can_ do. I've spent the last three months yelling at anyone and everyone who would listen to me. All I know is that Commander Brennan is being let off with what amounts to a slap on the wrist. That's why I need you here. I need a crew I can trust."

"Just keep throwing my life away to an Alliance that plays favorites at the expense of people's lives?" The sarcasm crept into Deckard's voice and he shook his head in disagreement about Anderson's desire.

"It's not a perfect system but it's the best humanity has to offer. I still believe in the Alliance. I also know that bureaucracy is still present. Not everything can be done as it is aboard a ship."

"This is bullshit...sir."

Anderson gave a slight nod. "It may be, Russell. We can discuss the finer points of Alliance political bullshit later on." The captain sighed, looked down for a moment and then looked at Deckard once more with a slight grin on his face. "I have one more thing, though. For your actions on Ontarom my request for your promotion was accepted by Admiral Ulalaju with the 8th Fleet. Your new uniforms should be in your quarters, Operations Chief Russell."

"Operations Chief? Just for surviving?" Deckard shook his head again. Good people, his crewmates, had died down there. He failed them. And now he was being rewarded for it. Unbelievable.

"Chief Russell, how many sailors died on Ontarom?"

"Six. And 10 marines." He answered without hesitation. He knew the count to heart. Hell, he relived it every damn day.

"And you survived. I say that fact, and your actions during each engagement, are worthy of promotion to Operations Chief. You may contact me through the proper channels going forward. Anderson out."

Deckard gave the captain another sharp salute as the picture dissolved. He stood there for a bit tapping his chin with his forefinger.

Whatever Captain Anderson's plan was, he clearly wanted Deckard with him. He had just jumped him up over some other very deserving NCOs and servicemen who no doubt were in line for promotion before him. But was the rank dependent upon him serving aboard _Tokyo_? Deckard didn't think so, but you could never be sure.

He shook his head as he walked out the door and down the hallway back to his quarters. It would be nice to have new uniforms. The new pay would be nice too. Nothing to make him wealthy but far better than a serviceman's salary. But it might mean leaving the station. While he wasn't completely enamoured with Arcturus Station, he didn't like the idea of leaving his one comfort and sanctuary. Maybe he was too far gone and after Anderson spoke with Dr. Nemchinov he would be left here on Arcturus to work in one of the many mess halls.

Deckard shuddered at the thought as he turned a corner to head down the main corridor to his quarters near the medical offices. But as he started to walk he decided that, at this time of day, he didn't want to be back in his room. He checked his omni-tool. It wasn't evening yet. He stopped and looked out the inner windows. Then nodded to himself. He'd take a 5-kilometer walk around Arcturus' wheel. Maybe he'd see some fancy politicians or admirals.

He walked out the door to the inner wheel and its lush, contained ecology when the thought of how the Alliance brass had screwed over Deckard and the entire _Shetland_ crew with their suppression of Brennan's investigation made him bristle. Maybe he'd sock one of the admiral's in the mouth? No that wouldn't do him any good, he'd be thrown out of the navy. And then...shit his life was just kind of messed up wasn't it?

Deckard walked the wheel and thought he heard birds chirping, which was probably ambient noise piped in to make the atmosphere of the parks more enjoyable. He swiveled his head from left to right, taking in the sights that he had never seen. He stopped at a park where a group of asari were taking on a group of humans in a game of baseball. The field wasn't a dramatic fare, just a simple diamond with fencing for a backstop, makeshift dugouts for both teams, and the outfield wall. True to its purpose, it reminded Deckard a lot of being back on Earth, aside from the 9 asari players. Deckard sat on a bench beyond the left field wall which overlooked the ballpark. He had no idea what the score was, what inning they were in, hell who these people even were, but it helped him relax.

Again his brain started trying to process the his breakdown. It was like trying to catch the wind. Everytime he would start to think about getting better his brain would slip to other things. How did the asari learned to play; why was it baseball and not soccer; were there other sports on the station. Each time Deckard's mind drifted, he tried to bring it back to actively work on his issues. Inevitably he would start to drift in thought.

Eventually Deckard gave up and started people watching the spectators at the game. He noticed that all of them were very well-dressed. Business suits and dress uniforms. That's when he became very self conscious that he was only in a slightly wrinkled duty uniform. He was about to get up and leave when the asari at bat unloaded on a pitch and sent the ball in his direction.

Immediately Deckard was back playing baseball in Virginia as a kid. He jumped off the bench and settled under the ball as it sailed his way. At the last moment he realized he didn't have a glove. Deckard pulled off his cap and caught the ball in it in one motion. He heard soft claps coming from the spectators around the dugouts as he trotted to the fence to throw the ball back.

The left fielder wore a baseball cap on her head but her cropped dirty blonde hair swayed beneath it. Deckard put on his best 'I'm available' smile as he walked up to the fence to hand the ball and get some face time. He always was a sucker for a girl in a baseball cap. He was two steps away from the fence when both he and the player stopped where they were.

"Cami?" He looked at his former squad leader with wide eyes and unabashed confusion.

"Deck? What the hell?" For her part, Cami gave Deckard a similar look of surprise and confusion but also gave him a big smile.

Cami had changed in the three years since Providence. While she was still a little small for a sailor, the athletic clothing she wore did not hide her toned muscles. Her face also told a story of being more mature and confident. Deckard could sense she had a story to tell but any thoughts about asking her were dashed when players began to yell for the ball back and the centerfielder began to walk over to see what the issue was. Deckard just looked into Camille Wilmot's eyes and simply felt disheartened. His brain tried to process how to act. Should he put on his happy mask? Should he put on his sad mask? Should he walk away slowly? Should he tell her all about his problems? Why hadn't he known she was here? Why hadn't _she_ known he was here? Did she know about Bianka?

Cami took another step towards the fence and her movement broke Deckard out of his own mind. When he took another step to hand the ball to her, he became very aware of his appearance and wondered if he smelled from throwing the beer...wondered if he looked like a depressed, broken man. Cami held out her glove for the ball with a smile as the centerfielder came up to them.

He was a big, athletic guy with tattoos that screamed marine douchebag at Deckard. One of the countless meatheads that made up what some considered the "cream" of Alliance marines. Deckard instantly disliked the man and his chiseled muscles and perfectly tanned skin. Probably artificial.

"Hey babe, this guy giving you any trouble?"

"No Gunther. Deck would never give me trouble." Cami kept smiling at Deckard, still holding out her glove.

"You know this sailor?" The word was said with the appropriate amount of high-testosterone prickishness only reserved for "true" marines. Deckard had met them before. They were all cut from the same block of not-quite-developed genomes.

"Yeah, I know Queen." Deckard gave the marine a smug smile.

Cami laughed a little while Gunther rolled his eyes in irritation. "Whatever sailor, just give us the ball so we can play."

"You go on and finish, hun," Cami said taking off her glove. "I want to catch up with Deck."

Deckard finally returned her a smile. Puffed up by seeing Cami again, wanting to impress his old squad leader, and feeling kind of big about his promotion, Deckard threw the ball over Gunther's shoulder and into the field. "Aww, sorry about that Gilbert."

"Deckard!" Cami said in a voice he hadn't heard in three years.

"Whatever swabbie." Gunther pulled Cami in for a kiss. Probably to prove his manliness or his ownership of Cami's affection. Either way, it was entirely unneeded for Deckard.

"Nice," Deckard said deadpan. "Do I get a kiss goodbye like that too?"

Cami giggled as she pushed away from her, very obvious, boyfriend. "Gunther just go play. Deckard and I were in Basic together. He's fine."

Gunther grunted, stared daggers at Deckard, and then ran off to get the ball and return to the game.

"Bye Gunthie!" Deckard called out with a wave.

"Deckard…" Cami warned.

While Cami led Deckard away from the field to talk, a lone asari ball player said farewell to her teammates before slowly packing up her equipment. This asari then began to trail after the two humans at a respectable distance.

As they walked down the main pathway Cami said nothing and Deckard said nothing. A tension that was just below the surface during their initial meeting, kept at bay by the happiness of seeing each other, became palpable. Finally Deckard hit on the problem. He handled it as he always did. Like a dumbass.

"Couldn't stick with Dario, huh?"

Cami stopped and slapped him across the cheek. Some passersby pointed at them and made hushed comments before moving on. Deckard rubbed his burning cheek and started to protest before looking at Cami. She appeared on the verge of tears.

"Fuck. You." Cami said through gritted teeth.

"What was that for?!"

"You're a goddamn asshole, Deckard Russell." A single tear trailed down Cami's cheek. "I told you last year that Dario was killed."

The news hit Deckard hard. It was definitely not what he needed to know right now. His eyes grew wide as he realized his best friend, whom he admittedly hadn't spoken to in two years, had died. No, was killed, Cami said.

The look on his face must have registered with Cami and her features softened. The anger dissipated from her face altogether once tears started to stream silently down Deckard's face. "You didn't know?" Deckard shook his head. "I thought you didn't respond because you were in shock or just taking it so hard."

Cami's lips quivered as she watched Deckard continue to try to process that Dario Marmont, his best friend at Providence Base, was dead. She reached out her arms and embraced the slightly larger man to console him. They cried for their departed friend, drawing more concerned looks and whispers from those walking by them.

Quietly someone cleared their throat close to them, breaking apart their comforting embrace. Deckard turned his head to see who had interrupted them as was surprised to see an asari standing there intently looking at them.

"What's a matter, can't two friends grieve another?" Deckard asked with polite accusation in his voice.

"Serviceman Russell. Of course you can grieve the loss of your friend. But Camille shouldn't do so openly in public."

Deckard's grief was overcome by paranoia. "How do you know me?" He moved Cami behind his right shoulder as he faced the asari, ignoring his friend's protests. He saw a mix of different emotions play over the asari's face. Surprise. Confusion. Then...sympathy?

Deckard's own defensive stance relaxed at the sight of the asari giving him a look of sadness. Finally Cami got his attention and pushed herself away from his protective hold.

"Deckard! What is going on? Don't you remember Daresa?"

He looked at the asari again and her flowery facial markings. It finally clicked in his head. He gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I haven't been myself lately."

"I can tell." Daresa looked around at the gathering onlookers. "We should head to my apartment, we are drawing a crowd."

"Of course, Daresa." Cami smiled and patted Deckard on his right arm. "Come on, Deck."

The walk to Daresa U'Rona's apartment did not take very long. Since Deckard hadn't explored the ship he was wholly ignorant as to what part of the wheel he had been walking through before stopping at the baseball game. However, he started to notice how everyone was wearing expensive business suits, expensive jewelry, and how there were a lot more aliens around him. He saved the comments for later since he didn't want to show how much he didn't belong here to Cami or her family's asari bodyguard.

He was struck in wonder at the opulence and size of Daresa's apartment when they walked through the door. He took in the room and marveled at its size. Taking three steps in he realized it was just the living room and he laughed to himself. To the left behind a wall was the kitchen. To the right were three doors, all closed. The room, while being an upscaled version of the utilitarian Terran design like the rest of the station, had undergone a very Thessian makeover. The bulkheads and inner walls were draped in sheer fabrics of multiple shades of blue and green. The furniture had undulating curves to it that evoked ocean waves.

Cami was already sprawled out on the deep blue couch as if she lived there. Daresa was busy in the kitchen. Deckard simply stood there taking it all in and not quite knowing what to do with himself. He was busy looking around at nothing and everything in the apartment when Daresa came out of the kitchen holding a tray of three mugs, a small metal container, and what to Deckard looked like a vase with a spoon sticking out of it.

Daresa put the tray down on the aquamarine coffee table and snapped her fingers at Cami to get her feet of the couch cushions. The bodyguard crouched down to ladle liquid out the vase and into each of the mugs. The aroma filled the apartment and reminded Deckard of sweet smelling sea air with the underlying smell of flowers. Taking a seat on the couch next to Cami, the asari finally let out an exasperated noise.

"Deckard. _Please_ sit down and stop gawking at my apartment like a fool."

"What? Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. Just, lost in my thoughts and…" Deckard shook his head before sitting down in a chair that was facing the door.

Cami giggled as Daresa cleared her throat. She caught Deckard's eyes and motioned for him to pick up the third mug with her eyes. Deckard flushed a little with embarrassment and reached for the cup. He took a sip and found the salty aroma was actual salt-water. Mild, but still highly unpleasant. He gulped down the tea and tried not to shudder as his tastebuds told him this was all very wrong to drink.

"Interesting taste," Deckard offered, trying to not let a grimace creep onto his face. This tea was _not_ good. It was like drinking flavored ocean water.

"Sugar?" Cami asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Deckard looked between Cami and Daresa, trying to figure out how to phrase his next question. Daresa bet him to the punch.

"It muddles the saltiness, if you find it unpleasant."

"Oh, good. Then, yes, sugar please." Cami pushed the smaller container around the tray. Deckard leaned back over to the tray and dumped in four spoonfuls of sugar into the tea. And took a gauging sip. The tea finally taste much better. The saltiness was there, but its interaction with the sugar was more akin to putting salt on chocolate or caramel. Immediately Deckard wondered if it was a Thessian salt since he was pretty sure putting sugar on Terran sodium chloride would probably not yield the same result.

The three sat for another two minutes drinking their tea in silence before Daresa started up the conversation again. "I didn't bring you two here to sit in silence. Serviceman Deckard, what brings you to Arcturus Station?"

"I…" His voice trailed off as Deckard internally debated whether to tell them about Ontarom, which was still technically classified apart from the fact that the _SSV Shetland_ had been destroyed with only two surviving crew, or to tell them that he had been on Arcturus for almost nine months. "I…"

Cami sat up straighter on the couch and looked at her friend. "Is everything alright, Deckard?"

Deckard gave a weak smile and nodded. "I'm not a Serviceman, I'm an Operations Chief." There, that was safe enough.

Daresa gave him a disapproving look. "You avoided my question."

So Deckard tried another tactic to take the pressure off of him. No sense in having so many wounds opened up over and over again in one day. "I can't really say until I know what both of you are doing here."

"Mysterious, Deck. That's not very like you," Cami answered him with a small frown. "I'll take a swing though. I am the Military Attaché to the UNAS Representative of the Systems Alliance Council. And, though I don't know for sure, I probably have a higher security clearance than you do."

Deckard nodded and then looked at Daresa. The asari blinked her eyes once and put on an innocent face. "Me?" She let out a wonderfully melodic laugh. "Deckard, you already know what I do, and whom I do that for."

He nodded again before smirking. "That's quite the title, Cami."

"Yeah well, turns out my talents were better suited in the diplomatic corps."

"What? I thought you were a great engineer." Deckard said with a smile. The smile faltered as Cami cast a sidelong glance to Daresa. The asari met her glance and minutely shook her head. "What?" Deckard asked into the awkward silence.

"Cami has-" Deckard stopped Daresa from answering by raising his hand. The bodyguard was taken aback at the silent interruption.

"I want Cami to answer for herself, please."

Cami flashed a quick grin and then cleared her throat. "Strings were pulled to get me the posting. It's nice...not what I want to do though." She gave Deckard another frown.

"Fucking Alliance brass. I've got my own share of bullshit string-pulling from up on high. Welcome to the navy, right?" Deckard laughed at his not very good joke. He recovered quickly, "So that makes you a, what? Lieutenant?"

"Service Chief, actually," Cami said demurely. Her face flushed in embarrassment.

"Huh. I thought you had to be an officer to get a diplomatic posting?"

"Usually, you do," Daresa said again, overcoming her annoyance at being interrupted by Deckard. "But that's a story-"

" _That's_ what happens when your grandfather is the President," Cami looked Deckard in the eyes.

"Camille Wilmot!" Daresa scolded her. "That is classified information. You can't just go _spreading_ it around."

"He's Deck, Daresa! I can't keep this hidden forever, no matter how much we try to hide it." She gave Deckard a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry I never told you back in Providence, Deck."

Deckard waved her off. "I get it. I wouldn't have told me either back then. I would have kept your secret, no worries. But well...I probably wasn't mature enough to handle it." Deckard drummed on his mug with his fingers. "Did...Did Dario know?"

"Yes, he did."

"Does Gabriel know?" Said with a sly smirk on his face.

"His name is Gunther. And no. He doesn't." Cami rolled his eyes and quickly checked her omni-tool for the time. Both Daresa and Deckard noticed, the asari merely shook her head. Deckard wasn't so subtle.

"Got somewhere to be that isn't catching up with an old friend?"

"I have a dinner date planned with him tonight."

Daresa scoffed as Deckard continued, "Wow, Cami, what a way to make a guy feel special." He gulped down more of the asari tea.

"We've got time, dumbass." Cami took her own drink of tea before looking at Deckard again. "So, I gave you what you asked for, now you have to answer Daresa."

Deckard nodded and sighed heavily. He sat for a moment playing with his pant leg before talking down to his lap. He decided not making eye contact would make this go easier.

"I've been recuperating on Arcturus for the last 8 months from the loss of _Shetland_ and my crew. We were out on the Lone Patrol above Ontarom. Got ambushed by joint batarian and turian slaver groups. Five ships took down our corvette before 8 of us abandoned ship. We sent off a distress beacon but didn't know if it made it to the relay." He took another breath and looked at the tea vase on the coffee table.

"When we crash landed on Ontarom we had to engage two of the five ships in a small skirmish. That's when we lost Cedric. We then huffed it 5 klicks to the village of Lohse. The next morning I lost Bridgette and Jianyu to a grenade. We met up with an asari smuggler in Lohse who helped us defend the village. The slavers occupied Lohse in force and cut the power while a very large electrical storm stalled over us. That's when Luiz was killed by a sniper. The Girl led us to a warehouse where we formulated a plan with the local marine garrison. Only three of the marines left by that time." Deckard's left hand began throbbing and he couldn't tell if it was actual pain or caused by any psychological stress.

He clenched the gloved hand, new pain briefly overcoming the throbbing pain. He took a breath to steady himself and looked up at Daresa and Cami. Both women sat looking at him with intent but sad eyes. His lips trembled but he felt he had to keep telling the story.

"We...uh...we split up. Commander Davidson went with the marines and I went with the ship's doctor, our chief engineer, and The Girl." Deckard noticed Daresa's eyes narrow as if she was looking to say something or thinking intently. He faltered a little at the odd look but continued on. "I...I…" He breathed deep to keep the tears at bay. "I never saw Davy again. My squad made it to our objective, the marine garrison building where the distress signal was located. When the storm broke with the dawn," Deckard's chest began to tighten up, "Wendy and The Girl infiltrated the building. I supported them on overwatch from outside. Davy and the marines caused a distraction to lure most of the slavers away. They made it in and sent the distress signal but...that's when…"

Daresa reached out and laid a hand on his glove to comfort him. Deckard felt the urge to pull away from her touch but instead pursed his lips and tried to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes. "That's when I lost Wendy. That's when I failed." He moved the mug from his right to his left hand and wiped the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Deck, I'm sorry." Cami seemed deflated. She opened her mouth but then closed it. Instead, she gave him a very weak smile before continuing, "I don't know what to say Deckard. I've…"

Daresa gave his hand another pat with her's. "You made it, sailor. For those who didn't, the calm waters of their youth will welcome them back."

Deckard gave the asari a very genuine little grin. "That's the nicest thing I've ever heard."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry that you went through such trying times." Daresa gathered up the cups and the tray and walked back into the kitchen to tidy up.

"So who was this girl you talked about? Did she make it out, too?" Cami asked him as she pulled her legs up onto the cushion and wrapped her arms around them.

"She was a piece of work. Saved my life and her own right before the corsairs showed up. Honestly, I don't know much about her. An asari smuggler who calls herself The Girl and lives in Lohse. Seemed uncaring about anything until the end…" Deckard sighed. "Interesting woman. She had these claw marks across her face that she seemed to have embraced. Painted the scars white-"

Something crashed in the kitchen. Daresa's muttered oath floated out to the living room.

"Everything alright, Daresa?" Cami called out.

"Everything is fine, Bee. Just a little clumsy with a mug. At least it wasn't the ylva, damn thing is almost as old as I am." She poked her head around the kitchen corner. "Bee, why don't you get a shower and change into something more presentable for a dinner date? Your extra clothing is still in the spare room. Then, you can walk Deckard back to his quarters and still be on time for dinner with Gunther."

"Yes, Daresa."

Cami got up and walked to the spare bedroom. Deckard sat in wonder that the asari even had two bedrooms. When he heard the shower come on he was not surprised. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms (at least), a living room, a separate kitchen. Damn. Must be nice to be connected to Huerta.

Daresa walked into her living room and stared at Deckard from where she stood. It was a bit unnerving and he immediately began to think something bad had just happened or was going to happen.

"Uh, Daresa?"

"Tell me about the asari again." She demanded.

"The Girl?"

Daresa just nodded.

"She was a smuggler based in Lohse. Conducting a meeting with some turian bitch who cared only about herself when we first met her. The garrison commander said The Girl procured items from both the Alliance and corporations on Ontarom but no one ever prosecuted her. I damn near got my head blown off by the old bartender and his shotgun at the implication we were there to arrest her." Deckard gave her a quizzical look. "Why?"

"You said she had had scars on her face and painted them. Describe them."

Deckard felt very uncomfortable. He decided to muster a defense. "Why?"

What came out of Daresa's mouth next was more akin to a growl. "Answer."

"Holy shit, fine! They were claw marks," he raked his hand from his right temple to his left cheek. "She painted them white to accentuate them. I asked her where she got them from and she told me it was something stupid she did when she was younger, wouldn't explain more. She had an extreme dislike of slavers, though. And she carried a monstrosity of-"

"A sniper rifle." Daresa finished for him.

"You know her?" Part of Deckard wanted to know the answer. Part of him was very afraid at this whole exchange and the way the bodyguard was acting.

"I knew her," Daresa was about to say more before the water turned off. "You'll say _nothing_ to Cami."

"What?" The look he was given made his face drain of color. "Understood," he squeaked out.

Daresa nodded. "I'm changing, Operations Chief. I too have a schedule tonight. Have a nice talk with Cami." She walked across the room and began taking off her shirt as she walked into her room, her bare blue back disappearing as the door closed.

Deckard sat with this revelation jamming every other thought process in his head. He began to think about everything he knew of the woman but the last time he had spoke with her was three years ago. Daresa was most likely President Huerta's preeminent bodyguard. But she had served Cami's family for a long time. Was it shortly after first contact? Maybe? Cami had known her since she was a child so it had to be a long time. He had a memory of the asari taking down a disrespectful recruit twice her size in lightning speed. Broke his nose, maybe his arm as well. So where did she learn all of those skills?

He kept trying to piece it together when Cami came out of the room 15 minutes later. She was beginning to put a diamond earring into her right ear. Cami was wearing a red evening dress and looked, well, stunning. Deckard stared at her before he realized whom he was staring at.

He let out a low whistle. "Looking good Wilmot. Geoffrey's a lucky meathead."

"Dumbass." Cami rolled her eyes. The straps of her dress were thin enough to show the outline of her Echo Squad tattoo on her right pectoral. As he got up from his chair and began walking over to her he realized that the tattoo had changed. What had once been just a tilted crown now sported a cowboy boot in the background. _Huh, they really were close_.

Cami noticed what Deckard was staring at after she got her earrings on and flushed a little. She moved the straps to bring the top of the dress up a little. Deckard gave her a sad smile and moved to open the door for her. He felt very out of place next to the dressed up woman as they walked back to his section of the station. But the feeling was lost once they were out of the upscale diplomatic area of the inner wheel.

"So...Bianka's coming to the station," Deckard informed Cami to break the silence.

"How did you know?" Cami said inquisitively. "Are you still in contact with her?"

"No, I'm not. And by your response, I assume that you already knew?"

"I have been coordinating a meeting between my father, my grandfather, and _her_ father that is scheduled for tomorrow." She lowered her voice and leaned in as they walked down the open air pathway. "All secretive bullshit. Apparently some admirals will be there too. Timed it to coincide with her squad's recruitment tour so it wouldn't appear odd that Ulysses Seager was coming to Arcturus."

"Parents using their children to get what they want. Fascinating." Cami just scoffed and laughed at his statement. "My parents told me not to go see her. They're the ones that told _me_ about this whole tour she's on," he added to answer her unasked question. "But my shrink said I should go see her but I shouldn't go expecting anything more than talking."

Cami snorted out a laugh and covered her mouth. "Sorry Deck. Of _course_ you shouldn't expect anything more than just saying hello to her. This isn't Providence anymore and she's practically a celebrity."

Deckard shrugged. "I wasn't thinking about having sex with her, Cami. But getting a bite to eat would be nice. How long are they staying on Arcturus?"

Cami bit her bottom lip. "That's classified, Deck. Sorry."

"But you know?" Cami nodded her head. "I told _you_ classified information and you told _me_ classified information. Let's just continue the information sharing."

Cami shook her head. "No way, Deck. We shared information about ourselves. This is information that belongs to Bianka and the other four pilots. I don't keep this position by sharing classified information with friends."

"What about with Gregory?"

She punched him in the right arm. "Deckard," she warned again. "Gunther is a nice guy and no, I don't tell him anything either. What do you have against marines?"

"Nothing. I have everything against meatheads that aren't right for my squad leader."

" _Pfft._ That was three years ago, Deck. And how do you know he's not good for me? Nevermind. Why am I even having this conversation with you?"

"I don't know." They walked a few more steps. "But I didn't like how he claimed you with that kiss. A little insecure or possessive if you asked me."

"When did you turn into a psychologist?"

"I may not be a psychologist but I know how men think. There was no need to prove to me that you two were together. It was just odd."

"Maybe Gunther just likes kissing me?" Cami answered.

"Maybe." Deckard looked to his left as they passed the bar he had an episode in earlier today. "Do you like it when he kisses you like that?"

There was a beat of silence from Cami. "I'm done talking about this Deckard. Gunther is a good man."

"And?"

"And I said I'm done talking about this." Cami was definitely irritated now as she started to walk a half-step ahead of Deckard.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," Cami replied looking straight ahead. Then she stopped. "Where the hell do you live anyways?"

Deckard laughed as he kept on walking. "Come on. Naval Medical Wing." Cami took a couple quick steps to fall in next to him again.

They entered the outer wheel corridor that led to Deckard's apartment. The polished metal bulkheads were a far cry from the expansive inner wheel and Deckard felt a tinge of sadness. He chuckled to himself. He always loathed the inner wheel since arriving on the station. Felt it hid too much of the truth of what the galaxy had to offer.

Cami snapped him out of his thoughts. "Why the glove, Deck? Something that happened on…"

"Yeah," Deckard said with a sigh. He brought up his left hand and turned it around, causing some pain to radiate down from the wrist. "Helps me remember my crew."

"Then why is it covered?"

Deckard stopped in the middle of the corridor. He received some odd looks and angry looks about becoming an obstacle from the people moving along with them. "Because it helps me remember them."

"Remember _them_? Or remember your failure?"

Deckard looked up at her with irritation in his eyes. "What do _you_ know about failure?"

"I know enough. Take the glove off, let me see it."

Deckard gave her a very perplexed look. "What? Why?"

"Because I want to see it. Please, take the glove off."

He sighed but began pulling the glove off one finger at a time. He moved against a bulkhead to be polite and move out of people's way. He slipped the glove off and held up his hand for Cami to see.

She didn't gasp but pouted her lips. "Awww, Deck. What the hell happened?"

"Tried to shield myself from an incendiary grenade. The thing exploded above me and I used my arm to shield my head."

She turned the hand around gently and then stared Deckard in the eyes. "If you want to remember your crew, then why do you hide it?"

"Because it's a personal reminder," Deckard all but snapped at Cami before he lurched off the bulkhead and began moving to his quarters.

His friend caught up to him when put in the code to unlock his door. "Look Deck, I'm...sorry…"

Her voice trailed off as Deckard's sparse quarters were a mess. Bed sheet thrown on the floor, small table overturned, and contents from the end table emptied onto the bed. "Is this how you live?"

"Who the hell did this to my room?"

* * *

 **Thanks for the comments and reviews everyone! Glad to see new people following along with Deckard. Don't forget to F & F: Follow and Favorite! And let me know your thoughts, too. That'd be nice.**

* * *

 **A/N:** _Originally I didn't intend for anyone from Echo squad to make a reappearance. But during the writing process I realized that another new character couldn't progress the story like Camille and Daresa could. So here we are. A rekindled friendship and two new mysteries. Plus, that fine-looking Bianka hasn't even come back into Deckard's life yet! Oh man!_

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 _TheAwesomeEagleHD_ \- I'm glad I'm writing characters that are believable. I feel, since we play such awesome, overpowered characters in RPGs that it's hard to write from a perspective of someone who isn't up to that sort of skill level. Sure, Deckard is good with a sniper rifle. But the dude has a fear of heights, depression, PTSD, and really only wants to be a steward. Not the best hero material.

 _seabo76_ \- I'm glad diving into Deckard's emotional state was good reading. It helps when you've gone through similar experiences. Would that be considered method writing?

Causey Trey- I'm loving that you love it, broheem. Seriously though, thanks for commenting and reading. I hope Gunther was the meathead marine you were looking for? And no, I can't write your actual username since FF doesn't like anything that remotely resembles as url.

 _Katkiller-V_ \- Believable Anderson? It's so hard to write canon characters believably.


	14. Act III: Chapter 3 - Intrusion

**I don't own the Mass Effect IP. I own the games for my own enjoyment, as you should too.**

* * *

 **Act III: Signals  
** **Chapter 3 - Intrusion**

 _02-12-2180  
_ _Arcturus Station, L5 Lagrangian Point, Themis, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream, Milky Way_

* * *

Deckard had sat through high school classes and lectures during Basic Training, nothing had prepared him for the agonizing boredom of waiting for Alliance Security (A-Sec) to finish their investigation of his ransacked room. A-Sec had arrived at Cami's behest shortly after they had discovered the despoiled apartment. Cami hadn't stuck around long after security showed up. She wished him luck as she departed for her dinner date.

Detective Aguilar was a nice enough man but Deckard thought he would make a better social worker than a security officer. The detective walked out of his small quarters for the third time in five minutes. Another question was inbound before his foot hit the corridor.

"Alright Chief Russell, it's just my job, but I need to know if you were, or are, into any heavy narcotics?"

"I don't use any illegal drugs." Deckard tried not to roll his eyes.

"So you'll be clean from drugs when we run your scans?" The detective held up his left forearm with an open omni-tool.

"Nope. I've still got my prescribed medications in my system. Didn't you find my prescription bottles in the bathroom?"

Deckard's question was meet with a frown. "Sorry to tell you this, Chief, but looks like they took your pills. That information points to this being a smash-and-grab. Probably looking for anything of value or drugs...or both." He proceeded to run the aforementioned scan and then closed his omni-tool. "Sorry to say this, kid, but we may not find the guy who did this."

"Nomos didn't see _anything_? I find that hard to believe."

The detective sighed. "Nomos?"

" _How may I be of assistance, Detective Quinton Aguilar?_ " The VI's voice came from Detective Aguilar's omni-tool.

"Nomos, has any unlawful entry been made into Operation Chief Deckard Russell's quarters today?"

" _My records indicate that no unlawful entry was made in the past 20 Galactic Standard Hours_. _Would you like me to expand my query_?"

"No. Thank you, Nomos." Aguilar shifted his focus to Deckard. "There you are, Chief. No unlawful entry. Either someone had access to your room or you tossed the room and made it look like a crime."

Deckard looked at the detective almost dumbfounded. "Surely you can't be serious? You heard from Cami, we got here and found it like this. And what about station surveillance cameras?"

"I'll get back to you on that. I'm not about to conduct my entire investigation standing here." Aguilar gave him a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry about your room. The only valuables stolen were the prescribed drugs? We'll get the information from your doctor," Aguilar looked at his omni-tool. "Two doctors huh?" He scrolled through some more information. "Who filled the prescription? Dr. MacDonnell or Dr. Nemchinov?"

"Dr. Nemchinov."

"Good, I'll start there. First thing in the morning." Aguilar craned his head back into the small room and waved the other A-Sec officer out. He clapped Deckard on the shoulder. "It'll be alright Operations Chief Russell. Even if we don't catch the guy, at least you'll be able to get new meds. Those are easily replaced. Nothing worse than lost data files during robberies." The detective shrugged and walked down the corridor to catch up with his A-Sec buddy.

Deckard watched the A-Sec officers leave and just shook his head. Back in his room he took in the mess and kept shaking his head. On a station with roughly 45,000 individuals, crime was bound to happen. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was targeted for some reason.

He started to clean up his quarters. Surprisingly, for the size of the room, the mess revealed he had a lot of stuff that could be tossed around. Drawers full of cooking implements, cleaning supplies, bathroom supplies, end table junk, data pads, and bedding. The items added up as Deckard put everything back in order.

Twenty minutes later Deckard had finished. Apart from not having his pills, which clearly weren't helping enough if this morning's events proved anything, all of his new Operations Chief uniforms were missing. While he hadn't known if they were actually delivered, he didn't think the Alliance's supply chain was that broken that he wouldn't have received them during the day. He just about slapped himself when he realized what he had just thought.

"Nomos?"

" _How may I be of service, Operations Chief Russell?_ " Nomos' synthetic voice answered.

"Were uniforms delivered to my quarters today?"

" _Yes, Chief Russell. Uniforms were delivered at 1200 Galactic Standard Time._ "

Deckard thought back to his day. _So the uniforms were delivered after Anderson's call when he was walking through the inner wheel._ He voiced the next question to the station's VI. "Did someone drop them off?"

" _I am unable to fulfill your request. Please clarify your question._ "

"Oh, ummm. How were the uniforms delivered?"

Nomos answered him this time. " _Package was delivered by Serviceman First Class Joseph Adali_."

"Nomos, run a query on Serviceman Adali's action reports."

" _I cannot comply with your request, Operations Chief. You do not have the proper clearance for those records._ "

"Dammit, Nomos! Just do it." Deckard rubbed his temple with his right hand.

" _Chief Russell, I cannot._ "

"Show me the surveillance feed then, so I can see for myself."

" _I cannot comply with your request, Operations Chief. You do not have the proper clearance for those records_."

The VI was only following its coded parameters. Deckard tried, and failed, to not be too irritated at it. "Then who fucking has the clearance?"

" _There are currently three thousand two hundred-"_

"Nomos, let me clarify. Which personnel groups have clearance for those records?" Deckard walked over to his bed and sat down, trying to steady his nerves.

" _Officers of Alliance Security, Alliance Navy officers of rank Lieutenant Commander or higher, Alliance Marine officers of rank Lieutenant Commander or higher, [CLASSIFIED QUERY], [CLASSIFIED QUERY], Diplomatic Corps staff, Technician Supervisors..."_

"Diplomatic Corps?" Deckard said out loud to himself as Nomos continued to rattle off the list of groups who had access to what he wanted. He tried to think but the list of groups droned on and on in the background. "Nomos, end query!"

" _Query ended. Do you have further need of my services, Chief Russell?_ " Deckard swore the VI asked the last question in a pretentious manner.

"No, Nomos." Deckard's reply was met by silence. He never could understand why the programmers did not give Nomos a farewell message. Perhaps it was to remind those in the station that Nomos wasn't a true entity, only a very cleverly designed virtual intelligence that parroted at being sentient. The uncanny valley and all that shit.

He pushed thoughts of Nomos out of his mind as he began to hurriedly write a message for Cami to meet him again as soon as she could. He finished the missive and was about to send it when he paused and took a whiff of himself. Smelling the body odor, Deckard open the message back up and asked Cami to meet him first thing in the morning.

Shower, then bed. He could do the detective's job tomorrow.

* * *

 _Fields of knee-high grass spread before him. There was no one in sight. No buildings. No mountains. Nothing but grass fields as far as the eye could see. Above him were pink skies and streaks of white clouds. They seemed painted on the sky in quick brush strokes._

 _A breeze kicked up behind him, blowing and bending the grass softly. The wind moving out in front of him across the field like waves upon the sea. It was a cool wind but it did not chill him. He stretched out his arms from his sides to take in the cool breeze in all of its glory. To relish in the breeze licking his cheeks and caressing his arms._

 _Deckard took a step and moved past the body that he thought was his. Turning back he saw the figure, arms outstretched from his sides. It was strange. Deckard knew the man he was looking at was him. He also knew the body he was in was his as well. Two Deckards. One aware. One blissfully unaware. Aware Deckard moved around Unaware Deckard trying to figure out how to move his other._

 _Should he be moved? Why won't he move? Where was he? Why was he here? Where would he go? Why should he go?_

 _He stopped when he realized he was running around in circles though the grass did not show that he had been moving at all. Indeed, he realized he was back at the same spot he started. He reached out to touch Unaware Deckard and his other mirrored the movements. Aware Deckard brought his right hand back down to his side as Unaware Deckard swung his arm back out perpendicular to his body. The blissful smile not leaving his face._

 _Aware Deckard attempted to say...anything...but found himself unable. It wasn't through fear. Or that no words came out when he opened his mouth. It was a simple fact that he couldn't open his mouth. He found himself getting frustrated and upset. He wanted to say something but he couldn't remember what he wanted to say._

 _A fear began to creep into his mind that something was coming towards him. He tried to push the thought out of his mind. He was in a wide open field with only Unaware Deckard. But the feeling kept creeping and it seemed as if something was getting closer and closer to him. Finally, with the fear overwhelming him, he slowly turned around…_

* * *

 _02-13-2180_

The soft, but increasing, chime of his alarm woke Deckard from his sleep. The fear he felt in his dream was still present but immediately receded as he got his bearings. The chime was growing louder and Deckard rubbed his eyes to try to expel his vivid dream from his mind.

It was possibly a side-effect of...What? Stress? Depression? Survivor's Guilt? Deckard repositioned his head on his pillow slightly and sighed. The alarm was turning from a pleasant wake up tone to a blaring tone. He didn't want to risk another horrendous centuries old music track from Nomos to wake him up. So he sat up and threw the covers off.

"Nomos?"

" _How may I be of service, Operations Chief Russell_?" Nomos sounded as cheerful as always. Of course, he _always_ sounded this cheerful.

"Play music from Eff Tee El." The alarm chime stopped and a slow electronica beat began to fill the room.

" _Do you have further need of my services, Chief Russell_?" The VI's voice came through the in-room speakers, lowering the volume of the music track.

"Nope."

After showering and drying off, Deckard was met by the same haggard face that had looked back at him these past few months. _Great way for Cami to see me_. The slight mental jab at himself made Deckard reach for the shaving cream instead of just going with the razor and water. Drying off his face after shaving he automatically reached for his pill bottles before remembering they weren't there anymore. It would make today interesting. He hadn't been without the three pills for four months.

Finishing in the bathroom, Deckard walked over to his bedside table and slapped his omni-tool onto his wrist. He opened it as he made the five steps to his "kitchen" to put in a reminder to go see Dr. Nemchinov for another prescription. He was surprised when he saw two messages waiting for his attention. One message was from Detective Aguilar and the other was from Cami. He opened his friend's message first. A secondary screen popped up showing a graphical representation of Cami's voice in the middle along with details about the message: where it was sent, from whom, when it was sent, and a transcription of the message displayed in real time.

"Deckard, it's late," and Cami indeed sounded tired, "and I just got back to my apartment. While I appreciate the offer to come over, you know that I have responsibilities for the 355th Squadron Event and other things to do tomorrow. Maybe...Just meet me at the event. I'm sending you the location with this message," a flashing indicator popped up as a data file was received on his omni-tool. "Meet me there. Perhaps if I'm there I can help soothe any issues you may have with Bianka. I owe you that much. Oh!" Cami's voice perked up a bit, as if remembering something. "Be sure to wear something nice. Maybe a uniform that could actually pass inspection?"

The message ended and Deckard was left a little confused. _Owe me that much? What the hell did that mean?_ He then realized he didn't have any clean, pressed uniforms. _And_ he didn't have any Operations Chief uniforms. _Just another reason not to go_. The thought came unbidden but felt as a crutch. He really _didn't_ have to go see Bianka. But his shrink thought it was a good idea. That was before he ran into Cami again. So maybe one friend was enough? Maybe he wouldn't have to put himself through the act of seeing his former…  
What was she? Girlfriend? Fuck buddy? No, that was too strong. Deckard had felt the connection but… He ran a hand over his buzzed head. He was only 16 when that happened. So maybe she wouldn't care if he didn't show up? Hell, Cami would be so busy anyways, would it really matter if he didn't go?

He shook his head and made himself some breakfast. Nothing like Blast-Os! to make you feel good. Synthetic sugar (the good kind, not the kind that comes back with a vengeance), synthetic fruit flavors (almost as good as the real thing), and the cereal comes in both dextro- and levo-amino recipes. Deckard did what he always did before pouring himself a bowl: made sure he had, indeed, bought the levo-amino acid cereal. It was a self-preservation thing that was a holdover from his first week on _Shetland_.

He broke into a wide grin as he remembered the laughter from Luiz and Wendy as he took his first couple of bites. He was new to the crew and didn't think anything of it after his first bite. By his fourth he realized something was wrong regarding the stupid grins the two wore. His night in the head was not fun. But, as a very mild form of hazing, he did the same initiation with Jianyu. They all agreed that Cedric was probably not the best person to haze.

The spoon stopped in front of his mouth. Terran milk dripped off the spoon and splashed as it hit the cereal in the bowl underneath. He recognized his depression tearing at his head and at his memories immediately. _This_ is what it was like before the three pills. The unnerving itching of creeping paranoia could almost be felt in the back of his head, working its way up to take hold of him. He then would be a nervous wreck for the rest of the day. It was like it had already happened and there was nothing Deckard could do.

Unbidden thoughts leaped into his head. His bloodied hands working to patch up Wendy's back. Hesitation to go up the ladder to the rooftop. Missing shots against the group of turians fighting Bridget's group. His inability to get a flight path put in for Geiger quick enough. They came pouring into his mind. He looked down at his ungloved hand. He hadn't even realized it was there resting on the table since he was so used to not even using it.

The misshapen, taut skin spoke to him about his failures on Ontarom. The memories played again through his mind as if on a looping vid. He felt the paranoia, the fear of being outside, among people who would judge him for fucking up. Judge him for his face, for his demeanor, for not knowing the fucking truth staring at them from beyond the Arcturus Relay. Life was a shitstorm. You were either killed or a killer. That was the way of the galaxy.

No heroes. No white knights. Damsels were out there but you'd have to put a bullet through their heartless captors to get to them. Life was a shitstorm, better bring your stompin' boots. And the Alliance, so self-serving with a deep dose of political bullshit. No justice for his crew. Just another 8 lost sailors as the Systems Alliance rolled onward and outward into the Milky Way. Well _this_ dumb motherfucker wasn't going to play their game anymore. _NO_! It was time for Deckard to shut his damn door to life beyond these bulkheads. Maybe get a ticket to some mental health wing, the less crazy kind, for some peace and quiet? Get medically discharged, head back to Virginia, settle down as the broken kid. Maybe get a job once the mental anguish subsides and meet a nice girl.

A small smile broke across Deckard's face.

He already met a nice girl. Five-Ten with skin the color of latte. Hair as black as the space outside the station. And eyes he loved getting lost in when she gave him one of her big, toothy smiles.

The thoughts snapped him out of his deepening hole of depression. The creeping paranoia gone. He **had** to see Bianka. In his rush out the door he almost forgot his glove but it was comfortably back on his useless left hand as he finally rushed out the door. Starting on his trek, he also realized that when he got to the Supply Office he could ask about Joseph Adali and his whereabouts.

The walk to the Supply Office was half a kilometer away which was not all that far from his quarters. However it did take him to a part of the station he had only visited once. Arcturus was designed with the inner wheel as a hub and two long arms protruding from underneath the wheel's superstructure. These arms functioned as the support offices, warehouses, maintenance offices, workshops, and docking facilities for the entire station. Deckard was in the arm when he first disembarked with Dr. MacDonnell after being rescued. He had no other reason to be in the arms so he had never been back. The Systems Alliance Supply and Support Office was tucked away in the arm closest to his small quarters in the Naval Medical Wing. This arm was used by the military and logistical companies while the other arm was used by politicians and civilians.

The artificial gravity provided by the inner wheel was different than the gravity provided by mass effect fields as Deckard' legs could attest. While it wasn't more difficult to move his legs, the feeling was one between having more or less bounce in your step. On the inner wheel, it was easier to move due to the centrifugal motion of the wheel to create its gravity. This created a lighter footstep. While mass effect generators created the same amount of gravitational force as the station's wheel superstructure, the difference was perceptible to individual who stayed in one or the other gravitational type for long periods of time.

Because of this Deckard had heavier footsteps, akin to wearing slightly weighted shoes, as he walked the kilometer to get new uniforms. The uniforms themselves weren't that much different than his current clothing. The standard issue duty-uniform of the Systems Alliance was a blue top with colored panels on the sides of the abdomen. The pants were of the same color as the secondary color of each rank's duty-uniform top. The dress uniforms were identical but with different piping and rank insignia.

Deckard walked the half kilometer to the Supply Office in thought about how his meeting with Bianka could go. He hadn't seen her in three years, hadn't even thought of seeing her again, yet now he _was_ going to see her. All made up and styled for whatever this tour was that the Alliance was touting. She would look beautiful. More beautiful than she normally looked, of course.

Maybe everything would work in his favor? She'd see him, remember their time in Providence, and want to see if a spark still remained. He thought that a spark still did. He would love nothing more than to take her in his arms and get lost in those beautiful golden eyes. Yes, everything would go wonderfully. He'd be able to pull her away from the crowd and have her to himself.

He was lost in his daydream and almost walked right by the Supply Office. Someone bumped into him going the opposite way which briefly took him out of his head. It was then he noticed signs for the office, which was several steps behind him. He got the images of what Bianka could do to him when they were all alone out of his head and strode into the SA Supply Office.

The office was like most other offices in Citadel Space. A mostly bare room with a terminal on a desk set near the back with one person behind the desk. Deckard could never understand why this ultra-spartan design appealed to the aliens. And why the Alliance had been so quick to adopt it. The cleanliness of the interior bulkheads compared to the corridor bulkheads proved that this room had probably been redesigned after First Contact.

He approached the desk and the lone Service Chief, as the three stripes below a single pip indicated on his shoulders, and placed his hands on the table. The man gave him a look of boredom and slight irritation.

"Hands off my counter, serviceman," the NCO bluntly greeted. He turned to look back at his terminal.

"Operations Chief, sailor." Deckard politely corrected.

The sailor behind the counter didn't take the sentence as a correction however. "The Operations Chief isn't on duty for another four hours, serviceman. You can take up your case with him." He got up from his stool and focused on Deckard. "Now, _serviceman_ , take your hands off my counter."

Deckard stood up to his full height, removing his hands from the counter surface. While he hadn't been an NCO long, this was getting a bit much for him to handle calmly. Deckard was glad he never had to serve under a chief like this asshole, who clearly loved lording his one pip over the servicemen below him.

" _My name and rank_ ," Deckard began through gritted teeth. " _is Operations Chief Deckard Russell_."

It took the supply officer some time to process the information. Most likely he had never witnessed an NCO walking around in a serviceman's uniform. From the unwavering look the service chief was receiving from Deckard, he finally relented. Deckard saw the realization hit the service chief as the man's eyes darted to the left and right and he minutely licked his lips.

"Uhh, right." The service chief nervously looked at his terminal and back to Deckard. "Can I see verification of your rank?" Deckard opened his omni-tool. With a motion from his right hand he haptically flicked the order from his omni-tool to the office terminal. The supply officer looked over the information. "Says here you don't have a posting. Is that correct?"

Deckard only nodded.

"Why is that?"

Deckard's stare turned into a glare. "Do you ask everyone that, service chief?" The tension between the two was growing thicker the longer they continued to prove who was the dominant one. Deckard's paranoia was kept at bay by the anger at having to deal with the service chief, his desire for information on who ransacked his room, and the growing desire to go see Bianka Seager.

"I need to know if this is legit." The supply officer asked, puffing out his chest just a little.

"Should we send a message to the _SSV Tokyo_ for Captain Anderson to confirm with an NCO that his orders are legitimate?"

The supply officer looked from the terminal back to Deckard again before slumping his shoulders. "I suppose not Operations Chief Russell." His full attention was turned to the terminal as he brought up Deckard's requisition log to check his size. "The network says we delivered three uniforms yesterday."

"Yes someone from the Supply Office did. But they were stolen."

"You need to report the theft!" The supply officer's shock was very evident on his face.

Deckard clenched his jaw. "I just did."

The service chief entered more information into the terminal. "I need an official report on the stolen uniforms."

"Then speak with Detective Aguilar with A-Sec. Right now, I need the order fulfilled." Deckard leaned his hands back on the counter and glared at the supply officer. "Go into the back and get the uniforms...please."

"Fine. But I've logged that you lost your uniforms and I _will_ be contacting Detective Aguilar." The service chief punched some more information into the terminal before turning and walking into the back room.

Deckard shook his head as the man left the room. He wasn't thrilled to have used such a commanding voice on someone older than him but he thought of no other way to deal with the asshole. Some NCOs thrived on making the lower ranking soldiers feel like shit everyday. Again Deckard was thankful for his time aboard _Shetland_.

The faces of the crew raced through his mind again. Deckard pounded his right thigh with his fist to try to push them memories out. He didn't need an episode here. Not when he still needed more information from this asshole. The return of the supply officer stopped more memories flooding in. Three sealed packages were in his arms.

"Here you are, Operations Chief Russell. Two duty-uniforms and one dress uniform. The additional cost will be deducted from your account." The packages were put onto the counter and slid a few inches to Deckard. A final act to try to prove his dominance over the other NCO.

"Charge me? The others were stolen!"

"Every soldier is responsible for their uniforms, armor, and weapons once they take ownership of them." The response was given in a monotonous voice. Clearly, the supply officer had to repeat that line many times throughout his job.

"But I never took ownership." Deckard rubbed his right temple with two fingers. "Look chief, Nomos said the only person to enter my room was a Serviceman First Class Joseph Adali. I suspect it's he who stole them."

"Who?"

"Joseph Adali." Deckard repeated, not liking where this was headed.

"We've got no one with that name working in the Supply Office."

Deckard looked into the man's eyes. He was either a good poker player or was telling him the truth. The man returned his gaze without fault or darting his eyes away.

" _Fine_ ," Deckard all but snarled. He grabbed the packages and made for the door. The service chief had the decency to keep his mouth shut as he left the office. Deckard tucked the three packages under his right arm as he stalked back to his quarters.

He became lost in his thoughts. Nomos was never wrong. So whoever this "Joseph Adali" character was either intercepted the packages or managed to create a bug in one of the Alliance's most sophisticated VI's. Deckard didn't like the implications of the latter option and so decided to focus on how the hand off might have been done and why. If Adali had intercepted the actual soldier working in the Supply Office, why had he then gone into his quarters? The answer came just as easily: he had to show that the delivery was made. But then why would he have used his own name? Unless Joseph Adali was an alias or...the second option was the correct option. Someone had changed Nomos' logs. Either way, Cami would hopefully be willing and able to help.

Deckard made it back to his quarters. Unlocking the room and entering, a tiny part of him wondered if he would find it trashed again. Fortunately this was not the case as his room was just as he left it. He threw two of the packages on his bed and ripped open the third. He guessed correctly as an Alliance Blue duty-uniform slid out of the packaging. He unfolded the uniform, tossing the packaging onto the lone table in his quarters. While slight creases were visible the uniform was good enough to wear. The side panels were colored a dark blue-green and three stripes with three pips arranged in a triangle above them were on the shoulders. Deckard placed the shirt on his bed and unfolded the dark blue-green pants that went with the top.

Deckard changed into his new uniform and turned to his right to look at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was running his right hand on his left shoulder, admiring the pips, when he stopped cold. He turned to his right to face the lone table. The crumpled packaging lay on the barren table.

Deckard walked the four steps to the table as if he was approaching a primed incendiary grenade. He then turned his head and looked into the kitchen sink. _Son of a fucking whore!_ There was the bowl and spoon he had used this morning. The same bowl and spoon he had left on the table when he rushed out to pick up the new uniforms.

"NOMOS!" Deckard's shout was laced with bit of fear.

" _How may I be of service, Operations Chief Russell_?" Nomos' unchanging voice almost seemed ingratiating.

"Who entered my quarters while I was gone?!"

" _Serviceman First Class Joseph Adali arrived with a delivery-_ "

"Motherfucker!" Deckard kicked the table over. "Nomos, you are **not** allowed to let Joseph Adali into these quarters!"

" _Systems Alliance personnel on official business may not be restricted access to enlisted personnel's quarters._ "

Deckard ignored Nomos' statement as he cast his eyes from left to right trying to figure out why Joseph Adali had come back into his room. _And put away my dishes_. His frantic search yielded nothing. He heard Nomos again as his quick search died down.

" _I must ask again, Operations Chief Russell: Do you have further need of my service?_ "

"No. A fuck lot of service you have given me." Deckard stood in his kitchen brooding for five minutes as he thought of his next course of action. He gave up when he realized he had no idea what to do next.

His life was fucked up. And now someone was watching him. Entering his quarters whenever they could and with reckless abandon. Deckard couldn't understand why he was being singled out or if A-Sec was right. Maybe this was just some random crime. But then why would they enter again today? Why did they clean up after him? Psychological warfare was a bitch. They took his pills. Now they took away his security.

 _I can't sleep here anymore. They can enter whenever they need to because of their fake supply office clearance. Official Systems Alliance business. I'm fucked. I'm so fucking fucked._

The thought repeated in his head over and over again. Deckard went to his bed and felt like crying. First it was at how nonsensical this situation was. Then he became more despondent when he fully realized that he couldn't sleep here anymore. His eyes began to well up when he realized the hopelessness of his situation. They had already won. He began to sniffle when the thought of how easy he was to break became clear. He then punched the bulkhead to punish himself for crying like a fucking baby.

He needed help. But where could he turn to? Fuck that shit. He didn't need help. Who came to help him on Ontarom? Who came to help him when he fell further and further into depression? Who came to help?

A small part of his mind fought back at the biting thoughts. _David Anderson and the corsairs came to Ontarom. The Girl helped on Ontarom. Dr. MacDonnell and Dr. Nemchinov tried to help throughout his stay on Arcturus Station. Cami was there after the break-in. Cami!_

"Son of a bitch!" Deckard said out loud. He glanced at his omni-tool and raced out the door. He didn't even bother to lock his quarters. What was the point anymore? He walked quickly as he picked his way through the crowd in the Medical Wing and out into the inner wheel. Checking his omni-tool again he selected the location marker Cami had sent him and began to follow it.

* * *

 _02-13-2180, 0734 GST_

Deckard ditched the waypoint as he neared the location. The thickening mass of people gave away his destination and he didn't need his omni-tool to find it. He picked his way through the crowd. His elbows and gently pushes annoyed soldiers, diplomats, and civilians alike, regardless of race or gender. Apparently an overeager Operations Chief was not allowed any special privilege.

He made it five rows back from the stage before the crush of people was too much. The very primly dressed salarian who he elbowed in next to was talking very loudly into an earpiece about how rudely he was being treated on the station. Russell smirked but did not make eye contact with the alien. He had enough room where he was situated to bring his omni-tool up. He wrote a short message to Cami.

Deckard let her know that he had arrived. He updated her on the second break-in and asked, once again, for her to get in contact with him as soon as possible. The message was sent off but just then an very sharply dressed civilian woman appeared to the right of the stage and held a door open.

Vid cams swarmed up and over the crowd as five humans in black flight suits began to file onto the makeshift stage. The first to step onto the stage was a man in his late 20's with half his head shaved and the other half a wave of neon blue hair. Blue Wave was followed by a petite woman who could have ranged from 16 to 25 years old with bright pink hair styled into two small ponytails. Ponytails was followed by a thickly built bald man with grizzled features. Deckard pegged him around 30 years old or older, probably another hopeless soul who turned to the Alliance for a second chance on life, like Doc. After Old Man came who Deckard could only surmise was a male model. He had perfectly styled black hair, with a chiseled jaw, and perfect smile.

The four pilots were in a line on the stage as they each stood at ease. They all looked to their left as Bianka strode out of the door like she owned the place. By the amount of jockeying that the vid cams were doing, she _did_ own the place, and the headlines across Systems Alliance space. The flight suit fit her perfectly and Deckard stared at her chest probably a bit too long. She gave a double-handed wave, both arms stretched out above her head. Her perfect smile was ever-present as she mounted the stage and walked to the front.

"Hello Arcturus Station!" Her voice was inviting, flirty, and, to Deckard, intoxicating. It was also amplified in the small space but there was no microphone that could be seen. Deckard knew it was an act and this was all showmanship but he couldn't tear himself away. "The Sabres and I are happy to be here, at the heart and soul of the Systems Alliance. Of course, there's also the parliament." The joke was delivered perfectly and Bianka's wink sold it. Everyone in the crowd laughed. Deckard even found himself smirk a little. _She's a goddess among us_. Deckard's thoughts caused his smirk to turn into a wistful grin.

"We're on this tour to remind you that everyone must do their part to help keep humanity safe in this galaxy. Whether that's through colonizing new planets; Helping to settle existing ones; Serving in local, system, or sector government; Or by making the **best** decision and joining the Systems Alliance military." Another round of applause broke out among the human attendees. The salarian next to Deckard huffed and crossed his arms in front of him.

"The 355th and I are proud to serve as the youngest and most decorated fighter squadron in the Systems Alliance. You can always rest assured that when Seager's Sabres are out on patrol, we're keeping the galaxy safe above your homes!" While not as loud and enthusiastic as before, another round of applause came from the crowd in response to that undeniably cheesy statement.

"Each pilot up here has dealt with the worst the galaxy has to spit out, but we have come out on top every time. That is what we are here to remind people: Humanity's best will come out on top, no matter circumstances!" Hoots and hollers came primarily from the back of the crowd where soldiers were standing together. Some of the human diplomatic staff also enthusiastically voiced their agreement. "The Alliance provides some of the best training out there in the galaxy. All of us on this stage started as raw recruits and we've capitalized on both our skill as pilots and from the training the Alliance provided. You, your friends, or your children should consider joining the Systems Alliance. Humanity is set to reach for unprecedented heights in the galaxy. Where do you want to make your mark?" More applause was dished out by the crowd. "The 355th Fighter Squadron will be here for autographs, pictures, and media questions for another Terran Hour, so let me introduce everyone to you!"

Bianka stood off to her left, Deckard's right, as she introduced the pilots in her squadron. "With unbelievably bad hairstyle but a man who can fly anything: 2nd Lieutenant Caleb 'Black Magic' Martinez!" Applause and laughter greeted the man with half a head of hair. He gave a knowing smile and waved to the crew as he walked towards the front of the stage. "Next is 2nd Lieutenant June 'Bug' Park, who gives new meaning to big things coming in small packages." She practically skipped to her new position next to the other pilot. He gave everyone two thumbs up and winked at the crowd.

Bianka turned her body back to the right as she pointed at the male model. "Hold onto your hats, ladies or all species. Next we have the ever-wonderful, ever-handsome 1st Lieutenant Victor 'Crash' Aragon!" A new round of applause broke out and feminine cat calls broke out from the group. The highly manicured pilot took it all in with his perfect smile and perfect wave of his hand. "Finally, let me introduce my wingman and the scourge of batarian pirates: Yuri 'Redstar' Huguenot!" The older man calmly walked to join the rest of his squadron and gave everyone polite nods.

The room erupted with questions from reporters spread among the crowd as soon as Huguenot was finished being introduced. The scene reminded Deckard of post-match press conferences for the Urban Combat Championship. Softball questions were lobbed at the pilots. Reporters asking how the liked flying together; their favorite meals; how the recruitment drive has been going. After six similar questions Deckard started to lose focus. He opened up his omni-tool and messaged Cami again and asked her to meet him as soon as possible, providing his location in the message.

"Zirpen Zolziko, _Talat Media Network_!" The salarian next to Deckard shouted out, startling him from his boredom. "Lieutenant Seager, there is quite a bit of rhetoric about putting humanity in the forefront of galactic politics going around the Systems Alliance, and in the speech you just gave. What can you tell the rest of the Citadel races about this bolstering of support for what seems, in all aspects, a Humanity First mindset?"

The crowd fell quiet at the reporters loaded question. Bianka's face was all smiles until Deckard shifted his weight to look around the person's head in front of him. Their eyes met and Bianka's smile fell a little and her eyes went large. The silence could not have been more than three or four seconds before Yuri Huguenot stepped up to take over.

"For everyone in the 355th we are happy to say that this recruitment drive is about bringing more of humanity's bravest and brightest into the Systems Alliance to help us prepare for any role our government, or the Citadel, believes we are best able to handle."

Bianka snapped out of her funk. "That's right, lieutenant. You can tell your viewers back on Sur'Kesh that the Alliance is not out to foster any feelings of ill-will or aggressiveness towards the other Citadel races. We will continue to help fight back slavers, pirates, or warlords out in the Attican Traverse. However, this tour is not about projecting anything towards our allies in the Citadel except the commitment that we will train and recruit the best humanity has to offer in our mutual defense." Bianka's smile returned to her face but faltered immediately upon the next question shouted out from the crowd.

"Shawn Faherty, _Westerlund News_. What can you say about the rumors circulating that this whole tour was met with disapproval by most high-ranking admirals of the Systems Alliance?" Each pilot threw side glances at the others and Bianka opened her mouth to speak but closed it sharply. You could hear the predatory nature of the reporter as he spoke again. "Follow up question. Are they sending your squadron on this recruitment tour as a cover to its dissolution?"

Bianka gave the man, who was hidden off to Deckard's right, an award-winning smile. "Shawn, I have no idea what you are talking about. Seager's Sabres are the Alliance's most accomplished squadron. Why would the Alliance want to dissolve the unit?"

"Could you answer my first question? The consumers of _Westerlund News_ and humanity deserve to know the truth." Deckard saw a dark look pass over Bianka and she clenched her fists. She took a breath but was interrupted by Nomos' voice.

" _The Systems Alliance would like to thank everyone for their participation in today's recruitment event. Please make any inquiries about joining the Systems Alliance at your local recruitment office or via the extranet by visiting the Systems Alliance official page. Credentialed members of the press may request interviews with the 355th Fighter Squadron for tomorrow at the Systems Alliance Military Press Office. Thank you!_ "

By the end of Nomos' announcement, Seager's Sabres had left the stage, as Shawn Faherty and other reporters tried to ask additional questions over the VIs announcement. Deckard was amazed at how quickly Bianka and the rest of her squadron seemed to let the questions from the Westerlund News moron get to them. _Maybe the little shit was hitting too close to home? Or maybe they were just tired from all of the travel and wanted to be done with this stupid tour?_

Deckard's omni-tool chimed to let him know of an incoming call. He walked away from the crowd until it thinned out and brought his arm up in front of him. "Cami, I'm here."

"Been awhile, Chef." Bianka's voice still sounded wonderful, even over his standard-issue omni-tool.

"Lieutenant Seager. Sorry, I thought you was someone else."

He heard Bianka's very loud sigh come over the call. "Dumbass." Silence followed but the line was still active.

"Bianka it was good to see you," Deckard offered as a way to break the tension.

"It's always good to see old friends." _That was_ not _a very heartwarming response_. Deckard's mind began to panic.

"I...I wanted to know if you wanted to get a eat to bite before you all flew out of here and back to...you know...killing." _Fuck. Shit. What the fuck was he saying_?

A laugh answered his highly awkward question. "Dumbass." Bianka sighed again, though this was more of a happy sigh than before. "Dinner. Tonight. _I'll_ pick the place."

With that pronouncement, she abruptly disconnected the line. Deckard shrank further away from the crowd and leaned against a decorative arch. He asked her out for a bite to eat and she accepted. It wasn't lunch, but it would do. Deckard closed his eyes and rested his head against the arch and relaxed.

" _There_ you are!"

The voice made Deckard jump as Cami doubled over laughing. Her laughing gave Deckard time to look at his old friend. He had to admit it to himself, she looked fantastic in her dress uniform. Her light blonde hair was pulled back in a perfect small bun. She had two small metal discs as earrings. Some makeup, but not too much. Her dress blues trousers had a very crisp seam and her cap was expertly perched atop her head and off to one side due to the bun. She looked like the epitome of what an Alliance soldier should look like. And Deckard found that he was once again staring a little too long at her.

She gave him a wry smile. "What is it Deckard?"

"What? Oh! I never saw you dressed like that before. Always...I mean, just never saw you in dress blues before." He gave her a smile which he hoped was reassuring and friendly. And not creepy in any way.

"Well, I'll take your gawking as a compliment and not anything else," she gave another half smile before her eyes narrowed and her features became serious. "So what was so important you had to message me late last night?"

"I think I know who broke into my apartment. Someone going by the name of Joseph Adali. But here's the issue: I can't access anything about this guy. Nomos said I don't have clearance."

"And?"

" _And_ personnel with the diplomatic corps _do_ have access to action reports and surveillance feeds."

Cami put her hands on her hips. "You think I'm going to risk my position to help you?"

"I…" Deckard looked at his feet. "I guess so."

Cami chuckled. "Deck, let's go to my quarters and work this out." She grabbed his elbow and pulled him along.

"Are you done for the day?" He said as he began to walk beside her.

"All finished. The meeting was a success, even if the speaking engagement for the 355th wasn't." Her face went to a scowl but soon went back to a pleasant smile. "But that's for another staff member to handle. I'm not on media duty."

Cami led them to a doorway framed in wood and bronzed metal. It wasn't as expensive looking as the apartment doorway that Daresa lived in but it was more upscale than most of the station. Past the door was a small rotunda with four doors evenly spaced around the opposite wall. Cami went to the second door from the left and entered in a code on her omni-tool.

"Nice place," Deckard mentioned as he stepped through the door. It was half a times bigger than his quarters on the Medical Wing. An actual wall separated the larger kitchen and living space from the bedroom. "How do you afford to live here on your salary? No offense," he added quickly.

"None taken. These are the personal quarters of the Military Attaché to the UNAS Representative to the Systems Alliance Council. I just inherited them." She sat primly on the two cushion sofa and mentioned for Deckard to sit in a kitchen chair across from her. Deckard pulled the chair into the living space and plopped it down across the coffee table from his friend.

"How did dinner last night go?" Deckard asked as he sat down. "You and George have a good time?" Deckard saw Cami's lips fall into a frown before she answered.

"I ended the dinner by throwing ryncol into Gunther's eyes." Cami said as she absentmindedly picked non-existent lint off of her trousers.

"You _what_?!"

Cami gave him a friendly smile. "Maybe you were more perceptive than I wanted to admit yesterday." Cami looked off to her left. "I could tell something was off when I first arrived but I soldiered through dinner until Gunther asked why I had left the game to talk to you. He then wanted," she shook her head, "...more like demanded, I tell him where I had been for the two hours I was with you." Cami frowned a little as she turned to look back at Deckard. "I told him I was with you and Daresa and he accused me of cheating on him. Called me a slut." The frown turned to an impish grin. "I ordered ryncol when he left the table to use the head. When he came back and grabbed my wrist to tell me we were leaving, I threw it in his face."

"Damn, Cami. Remind me never to get on your bad side." Deckard returned Cami's smile and he thought something softened in her face and her smile became a little bit bigger.

"I'm sure you don't want to talk about my failings in my love life," she leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs. "What do you need my help for, Deck?"

"Nomos?"

" _How may I be of service, Operations Chief Russell_?" Nomos once again sounded cheery to Deckard.

"Please access the surveillance feed from my quarters to show us Joseph Adali."

" _I cannot comply with your request, Operations Chief. You do not have the proper clearance for those records_."

Deckard motioned for Cami to ask the question instead. Cami leaned forward again and put her elbows on her knees. "Nomos, please show us the surveillance feed from Operations Chief Deckard Russell's room regarding Joseph Adali. Diplomatic code Tango-Xray-5667."

" _Diplomatic clearance recognized, Service Chief Wilmot. Surveillance feed will be displayed on nearest haptic device._ " A small screen came to life above Cami's coffee table.

The surveillance vid started from outside Deckard's door and was behind Joseph Adali. He wore a baseball cap, hardshell backpack on his back, and held three packages under his left arm. The suspected thief waved the omni-tool on his right arm in front of the door and the lock disengaged. The vid switched to a location above Deckard's kitchen.

The man entered the small quarters with his head slightly down, concealing his face even more. He threw the package on the table and began to systematically ransack Deckard's apartment. What was strange to Deckard was that Joseph Adali wasn't really _looking_ for anything. He was just ransacking his apartment. There was no pawing around in drawers or looking under cushions or his bed sheet, everything was simply thrown around the room.

Deckard and Cami watched next as Joseph Adali went into the bathroom and began dumping out drawers and disheveling the small linen closet. The destruction was stopped when he noticed the pill bottles off to one side of the countertop. Joseph Adali stepped over the mess he had made and picked up the bottles, reading the prescription information. With the first bottle in his left hand, he picked up the two remaining in his right hand and examined those as well. His hands pocketed the pills as Joseph Adali stared at himself in the mirror. He then quickly glanced up at the camera mounted above the mirror before looking down again and shaking his head.

Joseph Adali stormed out of the bathroom and Nomos switched the camera angle again to the kitchen view. The intruder actually rummaged through Deckard's nightstand before quickly standing up straight. He looked at his omni-tool and looked to be having a conversation with someone. After 10 seconds, he closed the omni-tool and went back over to the table. Slinging off his backpack, he stuffed in the uniforms and put it back on. His head swiveled looking at his handiwork before he walked out the door again.

"Nomos, replay the last 20 seconds of the bathroom feed." Cami moved from where she was sitting after giving the order to the stations' VI and knelt onto the ground between the coffee table and the sofa. She was now able to look directly at the projected screen. The scene played out again from when Joseph Adali picked up the bottles. "Pause!" Cami stopped the playback when Joseph Adali was looking at the camera.

"No way," Deckard said in disbelief. Cami didn't say anything but rested her left side against the small table.

The face looking back at them was none other than Dario Marmont.

* * *

 **Yay! Thanks for continuing to support The Steward with your favorites and your follows. Always great to see new emails telling me people actually like my story and want to read more. Don't forget to leave reviews about what you liked and what you didn't like. Be civil though.**

 **Author Note incoming!**

* * *

 **A/N:** _Sorry for going all Robert Jordan regarding Alliance uniforms but it's something that has always bothered me. The officer dress uniforms in the OT had very clearly defined rank insignias...duty uniforms or enlisted uniforms? Not so much. It was just like everyone knew that this person was an NCO or a serviceman first class (corporal for you jarheads out there). So, I took some liberties in the ARU. Pips are dots by the way, if anyone DIDN'T watch Star Trek growing up. Sorry for the long delay, I hope this long chapter was worth it though._

* * *

 **Review Responses**

 _Katkiller-V:_ Thanks for the kind words of inspiration!


	15. Act III: Chapter 4 - Tensions, Part 1

**I don't own the Mass Effect IP. I own the games for my own enjoyment, as you should too.**

* * *

 **A/N:** _I'm sorry for the long delay. This story is NOT dead! I have been extremely busy at work and at home and have had very little time to write. Plus, this last story arc, as we end our preparatory introduction to Deckard, is a little hard to write. Not that I don't enjoy writing it. More that I want to try to make it entertaining while also writing the story that I want to. So I had to break it into two parts. I hope it was worth the wait!_

* * *

 **Act III: Signals  
** **Chapter 4 – Tension, Part 1**

 _02-13-2180  
_ _Arcturus Station, L5 Lagrangian Point, Themis, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream, Milky Way_

* * *

The still image of their supposedly dead friend stared back at Deckard and Cami. Deckard was mildly annoyed at this revelation. He learned only yesterday that his old friend was killed in combat so he felt a certain detachment to finding out that Dario Marmont was actually still alive. Cami, however, was beginning to cry. From her kneeling position she curled up into the fetal position on her apartment floor. Deckard got up from his seat to comfort her but, as she was wedged in between the sofa and the coffee table, it was not very easy. Attempting to hug her would seem awkward given her location. He opted to sit on the sofa and placed his right hand on her shoulder.

His rekindled relationship with Cami was odd. He still felt differential to Cami since he had spent most of his time with her under her command in Basic. Yet the past day and a half had shown him that things were different this time around. Officially, he was senior to her in rank. Unofficially...Deckard didn't really know what to think. The fact that he found her more and more attractive could either be his lack of a physical relationship these past three years or that there was actually something growing between them. He became even more conflicted when Cami held his right hand with her own right hand and practically climbed onto the sofa and curled up on his chest, still crying.

Deckard let her climb into his lap. Though immediately he wished he hadn't. He was still a 19 year old sailor and a damsel in distress literally climbing on top of him was more than his fractured emotions could handle. He tried in vain to think of anything...ANYTHING...other than what was going on in front of him. But the slight movements from Cami's crying and the fact she was sitting on him led to an inevitable arousement. He tried to shift his weight but that didn't really help matters.

Cami's crying began to trail off until she sniffed loudly and turned to look at him face to face. The look she gave him was odd. He was expecting some anger at his arousement but she simply looked at him with a small frown on her face. Her eyes revealed that she was mulling something over in her head. After several seconds, Cami rested her forehead on Deckard's. "No," she whispered. "Not now." Deckard nodded his head a little in agreement, moving her head as well. Cami gave another sniff before climbing off of Deckard and heading to her bathroom.

Deckard absentmindedly clenched his left hand and winced at the unexpected pain. Over slow running water from the bathroom Deckard called out to Cami. "So what do we do? Dario's on the station and-"

"Dario is **not** on the station!" Cami was fierce in her reply as she walked out of the bathroom. "I saw the reports, Deckard. That _cannot_ be Dario." She sniffed again. Her hands became animated as she worked through the problem of Joseph Adali.

"The surveillance feed is not of the best quality. I mean, he's wearing a hat, so we can't really tell who exactly that is. Plus, he doesn't walk like Dario. Let's not forget that he was killed on patrol as well." She began to pace back and forth. "Plus, Dario would never target you. And if it _was_ Dario he would have come and seen me. I would _not_ have been happy, of course, but I would have liked to known I was sold a bill of goods about his death. Which doesn't make any difference because Dario is dead."

Deckard leaned back on the sofa. "Well then who is it Cami?" He pointed at the still image. "We both recognized Dario immediately when we slowed down the vid. Look, I don't have the same connection that you did with him but it's pretty obvious that he is still alive." He rolled his head to his left to see Cami glaring at him. "I'm not trying to be an ass, just processing information like you are."

He stood up from the sofa and walked over to Cami, taking her hands in his. "Cami, something is going on here. Whether it's Dario or not is an issue, yes. But what I want to know is why that person took my pills and my uniforms? It's a crime. A crime that he knew would be captured by Nomos." Deckard sighed and a single tear streaked down Cami's cheek. "I'm sorry I brought you into this."

Cami squeezed his hands, causing Deckard to wince a little as new pain shot up from his left hand, and gave him a smile. "Sorry," she said softly. "But I'm not sorry you brought this to me, Deck. I'm mad at...at...whatever the fuck is going on and if that is really Deckard." She sighed and shook her head. "This is a lot-"

A chime at the door interrupted them. Cami straightened her uniform jacket and moved to answer the door. "Yes? Who is it?"

A small vid screen appeared to the right of the door, showing Detective Quinton Aguilar and the same A-Sec officer that had looked at Deckard's room last night. "Detective Quinton Aguilar, Alliance Security, Chief Wilmot. Open the door, please." He gave the camera a smile.

Cami unlocked the door and let it slide open as the A-Sec officers walked into her apartment. Again, Deckard could only think how Detective Aguilar would look so much better with a long, dark trench coat to go with his "gruff cop" persona. The detective looked around the apartment and stopped at the image above the coffee table.

"Seems you two have been doing some digging into an ongoing security incident." He nodded to the image. "Who gave you permission to view the surveillance feeds?"

Cami spoke up before Deckard could toss out a sarcastic comment. "I have clearance to view the surveillance feeds."

"And who gave you _permission_ to do so?"

"I am the Military Attaché to the UNAS Systems Alliance Council Representative. A soldier from the UNAS has had a crime committed against them. I was looking into it to see if it warranted the attention of the Council Representative." Her tone was all business and Deckard was once again transported back to his time at Basic with Cami. The Queen hadn't changed one bit when it was time for her to be a leader.

"Is that so?" Aguilar gave her a suspicious look. "And official business just happens to be done in your private quarters? With a suspect in the case?"

"Come on!" Deckard blurted out. "How am I still a suspect? Have you even looked at the surveillance feed?" He held his hand out to present the still image as blatant evidence showing his innocence.

"This is an _ongoing investigation_ ," the detective annunciated every syllable of the last two words. "There is no reason I need two non-commissioned officers looking over my shoulder." He pointed a finger, first at Deckard, then Cami. "Stop looking into this issue. It's a petty theft. I don't want to have to come back again because Nomos tells me you are looking through the files on this case. If I do, I'll arrest both of you for impeding an active investigation."

Detective Aguilar nodded his head at the door and he and his crony officer walked out without saying another word. Deckard didn't feel intimidated by the detective but he stayed quiet as they left.

"The nerve of some people!" Cami said as she clenched her fists.

"So you think who your family will be your get-out-of-jail-free card if we disregard what the detective told us?"

Cami shook her head. "Probably not. Though we should still try to figure out what Joseph Adali wanted with the uniforms without resorting to accessing Nomos for information." She brought up her omni-tool. "You are going to have to figure out that bit of information on your own, though. I need to be back with my father. He and President Huerta have a meeting tomorrow and I have to make sure everything is in place."

"Okay, yeah." Deckard looked around the apartment. "I guess I'll go get ready for dinner with Bianka then."

Cami raised an eyebrow. "So you talked to her?"

"Only through the omni-tool. She said she'll pick the place to eat." His shoulders sank. "And I suppose the time as well. I just asked her out to dinner but forgot to mention a time."

Cami laughed as she straightened herself out by looking in the bathroom mirror. "You really are a dumbass sometimes." She turned to look at Deckard. "How do I look?"

 _Beautiful_. "You look in ship shape, Service Chief."

Cami rolled her eyes as they walked out of the apartment together. She reached out and grabbed his right hand with her left and gave it a soft squeeze. "Deck, sorry about what happened on the sofa. Just a moment of vulnerability."

"Hey, it's okay." Deckard said with a smile. "Just two old friends trying to comfort one another."

Cami rolled her eyes again but gave him a smile. "Dumbass."

Deckard watched her leave...then realized he was really watching her ass leave. He snapped out of his lingering gaze and made up his mind to go visit Dr. Nemchinov for new prescriptions. The walk back took him past the ballfield where he and Cami reconnected. He decided to go sit on the same park bench past the outfield wall. Deckard sat on the metal bench and began to collect his thoughts. He lined them up in his head to comprehend how best to come to an understanding of what was going on in his life.

First, he felt that he was growing closer to Cami and becoming more than just a friend to her. While this was good it was also bad since he felt that adding a rekindled... _something_ with Bianka to the mix would lead to further complications. Which, second, he couldn't shake the feeling that something might be a little bit complicated already with Bianka. Her words weren't exactly an invitation to the start of a new romantic relationship. Third, he had someone breaking and entering his quarters for unknown reasons. Fourth, he still had Captain Anderson's offer to serve aboard _Tokyo_ when they docked in three days.

Shit. He had a lot going on. He needed to clear his head. Sitting on this bench wasn't helping him. Deckard snapped his fingers as he realized what he needed to do. He needed to cook.

Deckard arrived back at his quarters thirty minutes later with a package of ingredients he picked up at the commissary. He set the package on the counter as he hefted the still overturned table back onto its legs. Washing his hands, he got to work on making his lunch. He wasn't going all out. Just a nice, simple, paella. This was going to be straight Terran as well. No need to create an Asari-Human fusion recipe that he usually liked to make. He wanted it done in the traditional style.

Pulling out a large pot he began to juggle the necessary preparation steps. As he waited for the water to simmer, he threw in some saffron, which cost him a large amount of credits, and a fair amount of Elysium-raised chicken broth. Letting the pot come to a simmer, Deckard began to quickly chop up the vegetables needed for the dish. Finishing that task he washed his hands and set to work breaking down chicken thighs, again from Elysium, and both pork sausage and thinly sliced prosciutto, both from companies located on Eden Prime. The prosciutto didn't have to be broken down but Deckard wanted it in smaller pieces than how he purchased it.

With the water finally at a simmer, he turned down the heat and began working on shrimp from Earth herself. When the shrimp was finished being prepared, he threw the chicken into the largest pan he could find and began to get to real cooking. After several minutes, he tossed in the shrimp, sausage, and proscuitto. Two more minutes and he removed the meats and placed them off to the side. He oiled up the pan just a little and threw in his chopped vegetables. Deckard decided that now was the best time for a bathroom break. The vegetables had 15 minutes to sauté, best hit the head now so that he could dive right into finishing the meal and eating.

His trip to the head didn't take long. He finished drying off his hands and stepped out of the bathroom. He stopped dead in his tracks as he looked into the face of someone he hadn't seen in three years and whom, until this morning, he thought was dead.

"Had another delivery, _Joseph_?" Deckard asked incredulously as he stared down his friend.

Dario Marmont nodded. "Just one last delivery." He held out Deckard's pills to him. "I've come to return your pills."

Deckard took the bottles and looked them over before placing them on his bathroom counter. Immediately he could tell that something was different with Dario. Physically he was a little more leaner yet muscular. Visually he wore the same baseball cap with the AS for Arcturus Station embroidered on the front that he did yesterday evening. Yet there was an edge to his voice. The same country twang was present in his speech but it seemed that Dario was actively trying to cover up the accent.

Deckard stepped back out of the bathroom to talk to Dario. "I was told yesterday you were killed in action."

Dario nodded his head slightly in agreement. "A fact I won't deny."

"Fuck that. Cami knows you're alive too." This didn't throw Dario off-balance as much as Deckard thought it would.

Again, another head nod. "I'm sure you and Cami have caught up a lot these past 20 hours. How was her apartment? I've never seen the inside."

Deckard raised an eyebrow then took a sniff of the air. "My vegetables are about to be ruined." He walked past Dario and into the kitchen to stir the sautéing vegetables. He threw in some aromatics and kept stirring the pan. The sizzle of cooking food permeated the small room. "You can go fuck yourself, you know?" Deckard said over his shoulder.

Dario laughed. "I get that response more than you would think. How is Cami by the way? She still like it a little rough?"

"I don't know Dario. I'm not dating her. I just ran into her yesterday and we have been catching up. Besides that, what the fuck is this attitude about?"

"Just trying to make small talk before I get off this hunk of metal." Dario took a seat at the small table. "You're welcome."

"Excuse me?"

"You're welcome. I cleaned up your mess for you this morning. Came by to drop off the pills and saw you had already left. Very unlike you. I thought for sure you were staying in. After your episode yesterday and all."

Deckard put the utensil he was using to stir the pan and glared at Dario as he leaned against the counter top. "How the hell do you know about that?"

"I know," he gave him a very large shrug and brushed it off.

"So why the cover up? Why parade around as Joseph Adali? Why fake your death? Why breaking and entering?"

Dario took a deep breath in through his nostrils and a small grin played across his face. He looked as he was expecting these questions and was relishing the fact that he finally got to answer them. "Joseph Adali is a nobody but is everybody within the system. Just little bits of code rearranged to make me disappear at will."

Deckard rolled his eyes and began to pour his simmering broth, some more herbs, and all of the meat back into the large pan. He began stirring absentmindedly as he turned his attention back to Dario. "What about the other questions?"

"Well, to be totally accurate, I _didn't_ fake my own death."

"So you're a ghost?"

Dario barked out a laugh and slapped the table, his country drawl more evident in his reply. "Funniest thing I've heard in the past two days. I'm a damn ghost here to haunt you for Lohse."

Deckard stopped stirring as he he tried to hide the rage building within.

"That's right, Deck. I know all about you. Why I was picked for this job."

"Get the fuck out."

"Now, now. That's no way to treat a guest."

"You broke into my fucking quarters." Deckard resumed stirring the pot occasionally, the wonderful smell from the various meats, vegetables, and aromatics continued to fill the quarters.

"I suppose I did. But here's the fun part, Deckard: I didn't know this was your quarters until I came to 'deliver' the uniforms." He laughed to himself. "Wrong place, wrong time. It's why I swiped the bottles in the first place. Had to do some checking up."

Deckard began to get the same feeling he had the last morning in Lohse. Something bad was going down and he was stuck at the back.

"So I found out what I needed to and brought back your pills. Can't have you throwing beer around again. Gotta make the memories fade away. Am I right?" Dario gave him another jovial smile.

"What the hell happened to you, Dario?" Deckard frowned at his old friend.

" _Life_ happened to me, Deckard." The smile and ambivalence were gone from his demeanor. "Just like _you_ found out what this galaxy is all about on Ontarom." He stretched his arms out from his sides to illustrate the scale he was talking about. "You got to see the big picture. You got to experience that right now humanity isn't given two creds out in the Milky Way." He brought his hands back to rest on top of the table. "But you came out of it. I wouldn't say you came out whole but you came out of it. Me? I saw the same thing. But I came out whole. I came out with a new sense of purpose."

"What's that new sense of purpose? Breaking and entering?" Deckard asked as he turned off the heat to the pan.

"If need be. Whatever I need to do to complete the tasks laid before me."

"What tasks? Dammit, Dario! Make some fucking sense." Deckard took a half-step towards his old friend. "You've thrown away what seemed like a great life with the granddaughter of fucking President Huerta! You've thrown away life in the Alliance! For what?"

"For a better cause," Dario gave Deckard a wink and checked his omni-tool. "Whelp, catching up is over." He slapped the table and stood up abruptly. "I've got to go." He turned and started to walk towards the door.

Deckard recoiled liked he had been slapped. "What? You just expect me to let you go? You need to talk to Cami!" Dario was at the door. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Dario stopped and halfway turned to his left with a grin. "But I'm done talking, Deck." From his obscured right hand he tossed something towards the kitchen and ducked out the door. Deckard threw up his right arm as a flashbang went off after bouncing once on the table. The small explosive force knocked him back a step and he narrowly missed putting his left hand onto the hot stovetop where his paella sat in its pan. _Dammit! And I really wanted to eat that!_

He ran to follow but found no one in the corridor outside his room. He strained his ears but couldn't hear anyone running away from him. He had to make up his mind. Would Dario leave the station now that "his task" was done? Or would he stick around? The conversation between the two seemed very final so Deckard began to walk towards the Alliance docks. He stopped just as he passed the entrance to the inner wheel when the realization came to him that Dario wasn't in the Alliance anymore. So he wouldn't be using the military docks. That also meant Dario was probably still in the inner wheel.

He turned and walked through the doors to the inner wheel to start the 15 minute trek towards the Civilian Docks. He reached the first park nearest the medical wing when the station's emergency alarm sounded throughout the wheel. The klaxon was followed by Nomos' broadcasted voice.

" _Attention! Attention! Arcturus Station has been placed on emergency lockdown! All available medical personnel and Alliance Security officers report to the Parliamentary Wing._ "

Nomos message repeated every two seconds. The klaxon continued behind it. The cacophony was meant to drive people away. It was all too coincidental. A resurrected Dario and now some type of catastrophe near Parliament. He began to turn on his heel before he stopped cold. _Parliament. Cami was going to meet her father._ He ran towards the heart of the Systems Alliance.

The inner wheel had enough exits that Deckard became just another first responder hurrying towards Parliament. He didn't have to jostle with people going in the opposite direction until he neared the seat of government for humanity. He was surprised when there wasn't a chaotic mess as he approached the parliamentary wing. He didn't smell any smoke nor see any scarred bulkheads from a detonation. Deckard swiveled his head from left to right trying to understand what the emergency was when someone rushing past hit him in the back, throwing him off balance and snapping him out of his thoughts.

Deckard reached out with his right hand and caught an A-Sec officer running past. "Hey! What's happened?"

"Shooting! At the Council!" The officer was gone as soon as she finished talking, running into the doors that marked the way to Parliament. Deckard chased after the officer and was waved in by a harried-looking marine manning the doors. The corridor split immediately, one direction heading straight ahead while another branched off to the right. Deckard chose the corridor straight ahead because he could see stretcher bearers running towards him carrying wounded.

As he went past the medics he could see that all of the occupants were in civilian clothes and had gunshot wounds to their arms or legs. He didn't slow up as he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and almost ran right into a security mech. Shit must have been bad if the security mechs were operational.

The mech leveled its Raikou pistol at Deckard in response to his attempt to rush the scene. " _Halt! This is a restricted location. Please provide identification and clearance."_

"Operations Chief Deckard Russell, I'm here to offer whatever assistance I can."

" _This is a restricted location. You lack proper clearance, please disperse or you will be forcefully removed._ "

"Oh come on!" Deckard looked around the mech and saw a woman with disheveled blonde hair crying into her hands. It looked like Cami but the mech stepped in front of him as it awkwardly pushed him back around the corner. Deckard took a step back back towards the mech to get around it but was met by a leveled pistol once again.

" _This is a restricted location. You lack proper clearance, please disperse. This is your last warning before you will be forcefully removed._ "

"Fine! Fine!" He threw his hands in the air in disgust and backed away. He couldn't get another clear look down the corridor as the mech blocked any line of sight. Deckard stalked back to the entrance and sent off a quick message to Cami, asking her to get in touch with him. Hopefully everything was alright and that _wasn't_ Cami he saw crying.

Walking out of the doors of the parliamentary wing Deckard went through his options with Dario. Something had happened that left him very changed from their time in Providence. Deckard's attempt to help in the parliamentary wing scuttled any attempt at catching up to his old friend. Yet, with the station in an emergency state, civilian entries and departures from the docks might be suspended. Deckard had never been to the other arm of Arcturus Station so he activated his omni-tool, set a waypoint, and began to hopefully catch a man who clearly didn't want to be caught.

Ten minutes later Deckard found his way through the station to the civilian docks. He was greeted by a press of diplomats, aliens and humans on business, and visitors to the station all trying to figure out when and how they were going to leave on their previously scheduled flights. Deckard was able to pick his way through the crowd, his uniform limiting any resistance as he pushed to the front to the speaking with the docking agent handling this mess.

He was greeted by a tall woman of Southeast Asian descent who looked frustrated but not without control of the situation. She was being berated by an asari dressed in a very nice bodysuit who was explaining the need for her to leave now, _right now_ , for Noveria. The docking agent ignored the verbally abusive asari when she saw Deckard come out of the crowd and gave him a differential nod.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! I was trying to tell you, young woman, that I have lived in this galaxy longer than your species has even known about the relays and that I _won't_ stand for this backwards and irrelevant lockdown of the docks!"

The docking agent gave smirked and greeted Deckard. "Operations Chief, how can I assist you?"

"How _dare_ you ignore me!" The asari spat out in self-righteous condescension.

"I'm trying to see if a man about this high," he lifted his hand to just above the crown of his head, "around my age, and acting suspicious came through here lately?"

The asari droned on loudly, to no one in particular, about the injustices she was being subjected to.

"No one suspicious has come my way, chief. I've got all of these wonderful people to help," the sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"Well, maybe he'll turn up. All flights are suspended correct?"

The docking agent leaned in to whisper into Deckard's ear. "Government docks are still open but you need clearance to hop onto one of _those_ ships."

Deckard practically slapped his forehead right then and there. As they pulled back from each other he gave the agent a nod. Making his way back through the crowd, he heard the continued diatribe of the entitled asari pick right up again. Deckard had to put some distance between the crowd since he needed to make a call that he thought he would never make.

He opened his omni-tool and found the contact information as he turned the corner away from the docks and found a quiet alcove. The line came to life a short time later.

"Deckard Russell," Detective Aguilar answered with wariness in his voice "What is it now?"

"I need you to alert the agents at the governmental docks to not allow Joseph Adali to board any ships scheduled for departure!"

The detective sighed on the other end of the line. "Is this about your petty theft case?"

"And possibly about the incident at Parliament."

"Look chief, I don't know _what_ you know about parliament but it's got nothing to do with your petty theft case. Understand? Plus, there is no one to chase after. The case is closed and the investigation over."

"What?" Deckard was in disbelief.

"I told you yesterday, this was probably going to go unsolved. Probably just some junkie. It's a shame I couldn't find him but the case is closed."

"You just closed an unsolved case?"

"I closed the investigation. Stop chasing this Joseph Adali character. From what Nomos was able to pull, Serviceman Adali is a model soldier."

"Yes but I know Joseph Adali, or should I say Dario Marmont. He broke into my apartment again right before the Parliament shooting. The man's supposedly been dead but clearly he's-"

"Chief Russell. I don't know what the withdrawal from those prescribed medications is like but I'm _not_ going on a wild goose chase after conspiracy theories and spies. This matter is closed."

"Just check the surveillance feeds from Nomos!" Deckard pleaded.

"I told you the matter is closed!" The detective killed the line on his end.

Deckard once again felt like he had been slapped across the face. A-Sec wouldn't listen to him. Detective Aguilar thought he was breaking. Maybe he was breaking? Maybe his body had become so dependent upon the medications that he dreamt up meeting and talking with Dario in his quarters?

He began to slowly, methodically put one foot in front of the other and walked away from the docks. The internal debate was heated. Should he go see Dr. Nemchinov? Should he talk with Dr. MacDonnell? Should he blow everything off? What was he doing getting wrapped up in these machinations anyways? He was just a steward. That's all that he wanted to be. A steward in the Alliance. Settle back home in Virginia or possibly on one of the larger colonies and open up a wonderful fusion restaurant.

But now he was knee-deep in a pile of shit. He had a gut feeling Dario was a part of something big and outside the law. Yet when he tried to bring up a possible suspect the detective had summarily shut him down. Fucking Alliance Security. Fucking Alliance. Why the hell would they close the investigation so quickly? Was it really that Aguilar had no faith in his ability to catch a thief? Why couldn't he…

Why couldn't they….

Deckard sat hard on the ground after attempting to brace himself against a nearby bulkhead. He could feel the slithering darkness of apprehension and doubt creeping up the back of his skull again. He had to stop moving or he might have collapsed and brought himself a concussion. The steely resolve to find Dario that he once had began to ebb away as the depressing realization that he was a nobody bored into his mind from all sides. He was a broken sailor with no one to lean on.

His head lightly hit the back of the bulkhead. The pain stimulating something dark deep in his mind. He threw his head back a little harder to get more pain. Pain was real. Pain was good. A little harder this time. Maybe a concussion to numb the darkness? _SMACK!_ Maybe head trauma so he could be with his crew again. _SMACK!_ Murmured words reached his ears. A little harder and maybe he could draw some blood, make headway to see Bridgette, tell her how he really felt. He was about ready to throw his head back in a violent slam before he was forcibly stopped.

Someone had grabbed his head in their hands. With his eyes closed Deckard felt the reassuring warmth of the hands. The lack of thick fingers or weight behind it meant that they were probably a woman's hands. Even before he opened his eyes the smell triggered a locked away memory. Of a time one night in Providence. Halfway opening his eyes he saw the beautiful face of Bianka Seager looking at him. Concern and confusion were fully displayed on her face.

"Deckard? Are you alright?" Bianka asked slowly.

Deckard took a swallowed slowly. "Not so much, Lt. Seager." He managed a wry smile.

Bianka nodded. Then turned to someone off to Deckard's right, out of sight. "Help me get him back to quarters, Crash."

Strong hands took hold of Deckard under his right armpit and he was hefted up, Bianka slid around to his left to help steady him. Deckard shrugged his shoulders against the two pilots to no avail. He then shrugged harder.

"I can walk, dammit!" He snarled at them. His face fell at his own vehement words. "Sorry. Rough day."

"Looks like you could use some friends and distractions," the pilot said with a perfectly disarming smile. It was just Deckard's luck that the one pilot walking around Arcturus Station with the woman he was still pining after was none other than the male model.

"I suppose. Bianka and I _were_ supposed to go out to dinner tonight," _Suck on that with your genetic perfection!_ "But I suppose I can keep you all some company now."

Crash, _Victor_ was his actual name Deckard recalled, raised his eyebrows and gave a chuckle. "Were you going to dinner with the lieutenant?" Crash looked at Bianka with a wink. "Seems to me we were just planning the squadron's big meal for tonight." He turned on his heel and began walking down the corridor.

Deckard turned to Bianka for an explanation and found no help. "I'm sorry Deckard. I said dinner, I just didn't say with whom."

"Wow." Deckard felt like he had been slapped again and was crestfallen. "That's...unexpected."

"I hope you don't mind," she said with a smile.

"No...of course not." Deckard brushed it off outwardly by flashing Bianka a smile. "Any time spent with you would be great."

Bianka gave him a quick, weak smile before following after Crash. Deckard grimaced and then followed after the two pilots. They walked through the corridors skirting the inner wheel until they entered a room meant for comfort. Sofas of both military and residential design were placed about the room as were tables, vidscreens, and various gaming apparatuses. As Deckard trailed behind the two pilots he saw a man and woman with vibrantly colored hair playing on a non-haptic integrated foosball table. An older man sat in a black chair against the far bulkhead reading a datapad.

Bianka turned back to Deckard and introduced the pilots. "Over there playing foosball you have Caleb Martinez and June Park; Black Magic," she pointed to Caleb first, "and Bug. The **old man** ," she raised her voice with a smile, "is Yuri Huguenot. His callsign is Redstar." Yuri didn't look up from his datapad but gave Bianka a middle-finger salute as his reply.

Deckard felt very intimidated. There was a difference between the regular Alliance sailor and fighter pilots; the same as there was a difference between sailors and marines. Right now Deckard felt incredibly uncomfortable. He took a step to move closer towards Bianka as a subconscious effort to feel guarded and guided but she sidestepped away from him and maintained a respectful distance. Deckard tried to brush off Bianka's attitude towards him but nothing he thought of seemed to help.

"You want something to eat?" Bianka asked. "It may not be up to _your_ standards, but should still be good."

"Oh please, my standards have lowered since arriving on this station. Any food would be good. I kinda left my lunch sitting on the stove."

Deckard walked with Bianka over to a pantry stocked with Terran and colonial food products. He took a package of dried, chocolate-covered fruit from Ferris Fields and made his way over to the sitting area where Yuri was reading. Bianka only took a glass of water and waited for Deckard to sit down before she took a seat across from him.

"Nice place they have you set up in," Deckard said as he popped a chocolate-covered piece of fruit into his mouth.

"The least they could do for us," Yuri answered in a thick, guttural English without looking up from the datapad.

"My quarters are half the size of this room; I would say it's pretty nice," Deckard replied with a smile.

Yuri didn't respond but continued to read his datapad. Deckard looked to Bianka who had a bemused look on her face.

"Yuri. Seriously? We have a guest." The older man sighed and threw the datapad onto the seat beside him.

"Apologies. How do you want me to make nice with the sailor, Lieutenant?"

"Just stop being yourself and start being a _nice_ asshole," Bianka replied with one of her award-winning smiles. A smile that she still hadn't directly given to Deckard since they ran into each other.

Yuri sighed again and turned to look at Deckard. "Lieutenant Yuri Huguenot." His hand was outstretched towards Deckard.

Deckard took the hand and gave the lieutenant a firm handshake. "Operations Chief Deckard Russell. A pleasure, sir."

"Fuck your pleasure," Yuri replied and threw Deckard's hand out of his. "You fucked up-"

" _Yuri_..." Bianka warned playfully.

"You _almost_ _derailed_ our public appearance. Causing Cheetah to lose her train of thought. I do **not** like having to speak." Deckard was taken aback as the lieutenant laid into him. "You should apologize to the squadron, Operations Chief. Especially to Lieutenant Seager. You made her show weakness which the frog and that moron reporter exploited."

Deckard didn't know what to say as the pilot intently stared at him. He looked to Bianka whose face showed no emotion. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Deckard stood up from his chair and pointed a finger at Bianka. "I was so _fucking_ happy to see you again and this is the thanks I get? This is the bullshit I have to endure just to see you again!?" He flipped off Bianka and Yuri. "Well here's to you, lieutenants!"

Deckard turned away and walked out of the room as Bianka called out to him to wait. But he was done waiting. He was done being the cause of disappointment for so many people. He just wanted to cook. He just wanted to be a Steward.

* * *

 **Thank you for sticking with the story so far. We've got one more chapter before we kick off traipsing around the Traverse and the Terminus protecting and advancing humanity's interests! Be sure to favorite and follow. Welcome to all the new followers and favoriters! (That isn't even a word) Also, don't forget to leave a comment. Ask me my thoughts, to explain something, or to tell me how the story is going.**


	16. Act III: Chapter 4 - Tensions, Part 2

**I don't own Mass Effect, I'm a nerd, not BioWare.**

* * *

 **Act III: Signals  
** **Chapter 4 – Tension, Part 2**

 _02-13-2180  
_ _Arcturus Station, L5 Lagrangian Point, Themis, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream, Milky Way_

* * *

Deckard made it back to his quarters from his confrontation with Bianka Seager and angrily made the short trek into his kitchen to throw away his congealed and cold paella. It would have been wonderful. And it had cost him enough credits that he shouldn't have had it wasted. But here he was, throwing away delicious food and credits.

He began to wash the dishes and the reflect on his day. Another shitty day. Out of three reunions in the past two days only one had been worthwhile. Dario had turned into...something. He couldn't quite grasp how he felt about his friend – **former** friend – and how he had acted. His time with Bianka had been anything **but** worthwhile. He was angry with her for luring him there for a lecture from Yuri about how he almost screwed up their squadron's perfect image.

Deckard felt the world was closing around him fast. His only outlet was...was Cami. He paused washing and a smile crept across his face. Yes, Cami was a bright spot and an unexpected one. Thinking of Cami made him realize that he still didn't know if she was alright because of the events that happened today.

He dropped the half-cleaned dish in the sink and dried his hands off. Tossing the hand towel on the counter he slipped his omni-tool bracelet back over his ungloved left wrist. He was, as usual, slightly repulsed at the hand and at the same time deeply saddened at what his disfigured hand represented. Sighing, he flicked the omni-tool to life. There was a new message but it was from Dr. Nemchinov, that could wait. A missed call from Bianka but that bitch could _also_ wait for all he cared.

"Nomos," Deckard called out.

" _How may I be over service, Operations Chief Russell_?"

"Any information related to the incident at the Systems Alliance Parliament today?"

" _There are five-thousand-six-hundred-seventy-eight articles on the extranet about the incident today. Can you specify your query?_ "

"Uhh...right. Just show me official reports and articles from human media." Deckard turned back to his dishes but didn't feel it in him to continue cleaning. He went to his bed and laid down on the covers.

" _There are three official reports released by the Systems Alliance and five-hundred-ninety-nine articles from human media corporations related to today's incident at Parliament_."

"Nomos, transfer the official reports and the 10 most highly viewed news articles from human media to my omni-tool."

" _Request completed. Do you have further need of my assistance_?"

"We're good," Deckard replied, reading through the first official report.

A shooting had occurred at Parliament. One shooter. Multiple targets; all were diplomats. The Systems Alliance wasn't releasing any information on the shooter or the victims. The third official report listed three killed and five wounded.

Deckard went on to read the top news article on the extranet, a report from GBC News. The report parroted most of what the official reports said but added a list of suspected casualties. Among the list was UNAS Representative Tyrone Wilmot. Deckard sat up in bed. The woman he saw crying outside Parliament had to have been Cami. No wonder she had not responded to his message.

Deckard slipped on the glove for his hand and grabbed his service baseball cap. He was about to head out when a chime echoed from the door.

" _Operations Chief Russell, Lieutenant Bianka Seager requests entry to your quarters_." Nomos intoned.

"Fuck," Deckard stood for a moment trying to figure out what to do before he heard a knock on the door. He let out a growl and pushed the button to open the door.

"Better make this quick," he snapped at his one-time lover.

"Deckard I'm sorry." Bianka said quickly.

"I bet you are. I need to go." He made to walk around her but Bianka moved into the room to block him off.

"We need to talk."

"That's what I fucking thought we were going to do earlier today! But no, I was brought to your other precious pilots to be the scapegoat!" He pointed his finger slightly up at Bianka's stern but beautiful face. "Fuck you."

Bianka's face fell and she embraced Deckard. He began to feel her body heave up and down as she cried onto his shoulder. He was taken aback by this turn of events and wondered what to do with his right hand. He wasn't complaining about but his thoughts soon turned back to Cami. He held Bianka's shoulders and slowly pushed her away from him.

"Enough. I'm tired of your mind games. Tell me what is going on so I can go."

Bianka sniffed and she wiped a tear out of her left eye. "I'm so fucking stressed right now. Seeing you today was not what I needed. You broke down my barriers and I couldn't keep up the act any longer."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard it all from _Yuri_." Deckard tried to walk past her again but she caught his right hand.

"Wait! That's not what I meant. I blame myself Deckard. This...this isn't how I imagined my first command going." She sniffed again and released his wrist. "Can we sit and talk please?"

Deckard blinked slowly to gather his thoughts. He really wanted to go see Cami. But here was Bianka, offering to talk. Offering what he had wanted for a long time. Well, not _everything_ he had wanted. Deckard was torn. Go to the girl whom he was growing closer to, or stay with the girl whom he could never stop thinking about? He chose the latter.

"Alright Bianka. Let's talk, Deckard to Bianka. Not Deckard to whoever the fuck that was earlier today." Deckard awkwardly moved around her to take her left hand in his right, still not wanting to use his left hand for anything. He lead her to his small two-seat sofa. This time, she didn't pointedly move away from him but took the proffered seat.

"I'm such a mess," Bianka apologized as she wiped the last welling tears out of her eyes.

Deckard wanted to let go of his justified anger towards the woman but felt that doing so wouldn't do him any good. Instead of a stupid joke he kept the hard line. "So what the hell happened earlier? Why did you stop me from…" He trailed off but picked up again before Bianka could answer. "Then you treated me like a damn fool in front of your squadron."

Bianka turned to look at Deckard and smiled a little. "Deckard, you were getting ready to smash your head against the bulkhead. I had to stop you. Then, on the way back, I realized that seeing you again was awakening some memories I'd rather not deal with right now and so I needed to be the strong leader for my squadron."

Deckard gave a wry laugh. "Wow, stop pulling punches, just tell me the fucking truth." He looked away from her in annoyance and shame.

"It was not the right thing to do, Deckard." Bianka offered. "I'm not that girl from Providence anymore. I'm the squadron leader of the most prestigious fighter squadron in the Alliance. Not some girl madly- infatuated with a basic training crush."

Bianka continued into the silence. "We're under a lot of stress. I knew Yuri wouldn't be the most tactful but he is the oldest and probably should have been the squadron leader. The others needed to hear it from him. They needed to be shown that I lost my cool only because of something outside my control."

"That's a poor fucking excuse for throwing me to the damn varren."

Bianka nodded, not that Deckard could see her. "Probably. But...fuck." She sniffed again, a tear streaking down her cheek. "I'm sorry." She stood up but Deckard reached out with his left hand by reflex and grabbed her wrist, causing him to wince and tighten his grip just a little bit more.

"Ouch!" Bianka exclaimed.

"Sorry. Don't go." Deckard asked quietly. Bianka extricated her hand from his grasp and rubbed her wrist. She made up her mind and slowly sat back down.

"What's with the glove?" Bianka rubbed her wrist absentmindedly as she looked into Deckard's eyes.

Deckard's mind quickly ran through the possibility of lying to her but those thoughts were dashed. Better to be up front...to a point. He had been open with Cami but that was because of Daresa's intimidating presence and his own fragile mental state.

"I had a bad experience on my last mission," Deckard stated.

Bianka gave him a slightly confused look. "You have a lot of missions here on Arcturus Station?"

"No." Deckard's face turned grim he _really_ didn't want to get into this, not with Bianka. "My previous post. Run in with some slavers in the traverse. I got out with a mangled hand."

"Fucking slavers. Run into them all the time. Who were they, bats?"

Deckard nodded. "And turians."

"Ontarom? That was _you_?" Bianka had a new look in her eyes like a wild fury.

"Yeah," Deckard said quietly, looking away. "Yeah, it was."

"Deck, your crew took out three slaver ships! You killed what, 20-30 slavers? With a crew of 10? You should be happy!" Bianka's smile confirmed that she was happy enough for him. However her words stung and he did what first came to mind. He lashed out.

"Happy?! Are you _fucking_ kidding me? I lost my captain and the helmsman before we even fucking knew what hit us! I lost six more of my crewmates in about 30 hours! And you want me to be happy?! Jesus fucking Christ, Bianka!"

"And how many lives did your crew save from being sold on Omega?" Bianka responded with a righteous fury all her own.

"I...I don't know." Deckard had been presented this question many times by Dr. MacDonnell and Dr. Nemchinov. But seeing and hearing Bianka, the question was received differently this time around. "I suppose everyone in Lohse."

"You're damn straight. This is what so many people don't understand. Deaths happen, it's the natural law. Out here in the galaxy, our deaths may be accelerated but they are going to happen no matter what we do. Some make the most out of it. And, if you find yourself able, you fight like hell to make sure others get to push back their deaths just a little bit longer." She took his gloved hand in her hands.

"Deck, what happened on Ontarom was relayed throughout the Corsairs. We had a rendezvous with a corsair flotilla a little bit ago. It was all they could talk about: How a corvette's crew fought for humanity when the Systems Alliance couldn't help." She caressed his hand. "Deckard you should be proud! You shouldn't hide your involvement."

"I'm not hiding my involvement! But I don't think anything we did down there was worthy of praise. I did what I had to to survive down there. But I couldn't save everyone Bianka. I couldn't save my crew."

"We can never save everyone, dumbass." Bianka looked down at his hand. "May I?"

Deckard nodded without a word and Bianka began to slowly pull off the glove. She cradled his hand and the black glove slipped off to reveal the tortured skin of his hand. He heard a sharp intake of air from Bianka at the sight of his hand. Instead of recoiling, she resumed caressing the hand, lightly running her fingers over the white scars.

"Why don't you get it healed?" Bianka finally asked.

"I refused the final corrective surgery."

"It has to hurt like hell."

"The pain makes me remember my failure on Ontarom," Deckard responded. "I _have_ to remember."

Bianka stopped caressing the malformed hand and looked at Deckard again. "Dumbass," she said quietly. "Deck, you are one of the sweetest guys I have ever known. But you're a dumbass. You can't hold onto this feeling of failure. You _survived_ , Deck. You survived in the Traverse against slavers. How many can say that?"

Deckard stared into those wonderful eyes of hers and leaned forward to kiss her. He stopped when she turned her head away. "Sorry," he said meekly.

"That girl is gone Deckard." She shook her head a little and bit her bottom lip. "I can't. I've got too many responsibilities and…" She breathed deeply and looked Deckard in the eyes again before standing up. "Deckard, I'm seeing Crash."

A small sound escaped Deckard's lips, he looked down at his ungloved hand and clenched it for the pain.

"But seeing you here," Bianka continued. "Being here with you." She shook her head again. "Deckard, it's just a little confusing right now, okay?"

"I seem to be having that effect on women." Deckard let out a small laugh.

"Women?" He waved the question away. "Dumbass." Bianka turned to leave but stopped a step from the door. She turned around and walked back to him on the sofa. "Come with me."

"Right now?"

She let out a small laugh of her own. "Not _right_ now. But…" Bianka bit her lower lip again. "Deck, shit's going down in the Alliance."

"You're telling me, someone attacked Parliament today."

"I know, I know, but even before today. We're not on a publicity tour Deckard." Bianka looked around the room, as if someone would be listening in. She sat down next to Deckard again her face full of concern and worry. "We're being reassigned to the _SSV Royal Fortune_."

" _Royal Fortune_? Never heard of it."

"And you wouldn't have. It's a newly commissioned corsair carrier. They're putting together all new fighter squadrons...and my squadron." Bianka looked down at her lap and played with a fingernail. "We've made too much of a name for ourselves is what we were unofficially told. While we're good for recruiting, the top brass was bristling under the celebrity status we were obtaining." She stopped fiddling with her nails and looked back up at Deckard, defiance in her eyes.

"Who told you all this?"

"Our new captain, Silas Tanwar." Bianka replied. "I want you to come with us Deckard. The squadron could use a steward."

"And you?" Deckard gave her a small grin.

"Deckard, I told you already: I'm not that girl anymore. I want to be friends. But I don't think we'll be anything more than that. But I want you by my side. The corsairs aren't navy. I want someone who will watch my back. Someone who I _know_ will think about _me_ first."

"That's pretty selfish of you. Why doesn't the male model of yours fill that roll?" Bianka glared at him but said nothing. Deckard furrowed his brow. "I'll think about it. When do you need to know?"

"Soon, we leave in two days." Bianka got up again. "I'll smooth it over with the guys to make your acceptance easier."

"Such confidence," Deckard said with a smile.

"I know." Bianka turned and swung her hips as she walked out of his quarters.

* * *

 _02-14-2180, 0514 (Systems Alliance Standard Time_ )

Deckard awoke to his door chime going off. He quickly got out of bed as Nomos began with his introduction.

" _Operations Chief Russell, Service Chief Camille Wilmot requests entry to your quarters_."

"Open the door!" Deckard hissed as he sprung out of bed. The door slid open and Cami stumbled into the dimly lit apartment.

"Deckard?" Her voice was quiet and ragged.

"Lights!" The lights slowly came up and Deckard was met with a very disheveled woman. Her cheeks were red from crying. Her makeup had been wiped away and her hair looked like it could have used a good brushing. "Cami!"

The woman said nothing but fell into Deckard and embraced him, burying her head into his bare chest. There weren't any tears, Deckard thought it was because she had none left. He pulled her in close and then remembered he was only wearing a pair of boxers. He attempted to shift her but she clung on more tightly to him.

Deckard reached up and smoothed her hair with his left hand. "Cami," he said soothingly. "I'm so sorry." He held her, smoothing her hair, for about ten minutes. Finally she pulled her head back from him.

"Lay me down."

"What?" Deckard gave her a bewildered look.

"I need to lay down Deck or I'll fall over. Lay me down."

"Yes ma'am." Deckard replied with a warm smile. He guided Cami to a sitting position on the edge of his bed. He sat down beside her and carefully guided her down to half lay on the bed. Thankfully, she brought her own legs up.

"Please," she said quietly. "Lay next to me. I...I don't want to be alone." Deckard nodded and walked around to the other side of the bed and laid down next to her. Her back was to him as she laid on her side and he on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

Cami was quiet and Deckard was about to fall back asleep when she began to whisper.

"He's gone. He's gone. First Dario...now my father. They're gone Deck. They're gone."

Variations of this train of thought played out until she finally fell asleep around 0600. Deckard felt like crying. Seeing Cami in this state was horrible. He felt hopeless, he felt useless. He _had_ to help this woman out somehow. She was his friend...maybe more. But what kind of man would he be to take advantage of her in this time of grief?

He looked at his left hand in the dim light of his quarters. Had he been trying so hard to remember his failure that he was forgetting the good he and his crew had done in Lohse? Was Bianka right or was she just trying to get him to bend to her wishes? The invitation to join her squadron seemed spur of the moment. He didn't think Bianka would seek to manipulate him. But after the events with the rest of the squadron yesterday, he really couldn't be sure.

Cami snored softly next to him. Her dress uniform was a mess. He wanted to get the jacket off of her at least, so she could be more comfortable, but he also didn't want to risk waking her. Again, he felt a profound sadness for Cami. He didn't know how he would feel, losing his father. He would probably be a mess just like Cami was right now.

Her words were true though, if said in despair. She was alone. She would be even more alone if he left her for the corsairs. But a nagging voice in his head told him that Bianka was right as well. The Alliance held nothing for him. Just bureaucracy and backstabbing. The issue of Commander Brennan's light punishment brought up feelings of intense hatred for the admirals of the Alliance. The corsairs operated under the auspices of the Systems Alliance but were still free to go and deal with situations in the Traverse and Terminus immediately, without waiting for decisions to be made half a galaxy away on Arcturus Station.

Captain Anderson had promised him a spot on his new ship but he would still be constrained to the Alliance's ways. No doubt, if you rocked the Alliance's boat too much, you would be relegated to the dustbin. Every marine and sailor had heard the tale of that coward General Williams who surrendered Shanxi to the turians. The brass threw Williams out without remorse. Rock the boat and you were out on your ass. Anderson's crusade to bring the best and brightest together was a lost cause.

That made up his mind. He would join Bianka's squadron. He'd be on a ship again but this time would be different. He turned on his side and looked at Cami's back. This time he'd have friends. He wouldn't let what happened on Lohse happen again. He could convince Cami to come along with him. While he didn't feel pursuing a relationship with her would be in the best interest of either of them, right now, he had no qualms giving her a gentle push to follow him aboard _Royal Fortune_.

He'd protect her. He'd protect Bianka. He looked at his left hand again. He wouldn't fail this time.

* * *

 **Thank you for the follows, the favorites, and the views! Don't forget to leave reviews for awesome interactions like what you're about to see below! Let's keep this ship sailing!**

 **What's that? Ended too soon? Fine! Sneak peek dumbasses!**

* * *

 _Lohse Outskirts, Ontarom, Newtown System, Kepler Verge_

The monstrous Thonal moved far faster than any moon should have moved against the night sky. The humans were fools to settle Ontarom. The matriarchs had told them as much when they began settling this rock. But the humans had their quirks, they wanted Ontarom, so they settled it. Within my lifetime, if I lived to be a matriarch, this world would suffer a cataclysmic collision with Thonal. I shook my head at my thoughts.

For all my time spent on Earth, humans still astounded me. To think they had only come into the galactic community twenty years ago. Now look at them. Parading around and crowing about not being shown the respect their race deserved. Still, their culture is fascinating to me.

But human culture is not why I've come to Lohse. No. It's time to pay an old friend a visit. That girl was supposed to stay out of conflict with her crest to the sand. Yet the events of _Shetland_ last year meant she couldn't keep the seas at bay.

I was here to make sure she understood what her expulsion had meant sixty years ago, in case she had forgotten. Athame knew that Jona didn't forget. That unstable woman would not be happy to hear of how she had helped the sailors.

Sighing, I took my sniper rifle off my back and placed it on the rock ledge in front of me. While the angle wasn't ideal, I had both the front and back of her bar in my sights. Relaxing my body, I looked through the scope. I needed to get a feel for the distances.

I immediately tensed as the end of a very large barrel was pressed against my crest. I instinctually flared my biotics to throw the person who had crept up on me somehow.

"Now, now. None of that."

That voice. Athame's ass!

"Turn over, slowly." I rolled onto my back as instructed and met with a massive sniper rifle and the scarred visage of exactly who I thought it was.

"Aiels T'Doran," I said coldly.

"Daresa U'Rona. How the _fuck_ did you find me?" Her scars gave her face an abhorrent look. The result of her failure that got us both kicked out of the Eclipse so long ago.

* * *

 **A/N:** Excited? I know I am. The title for the next story is _The Corsair Saga: The Buccaneer_ be sure to look for it when searching for Mass Effect fanfics or by following me, the writer. Thanks for a great ride! Don't forget to spread the word and pay attention for my next story! Thank you to Katkiller-V for this amazing universe to play around in as well. There'd be no Deckard without Cieran.

EDIT 1: I retconned 'Crash' Aragon's first name to Victor. Helmut was just too stupid to work with. Victor fits the suave Ken doll much better.

* * *

 **Review Responses**

 _Katkiller-V_ \- Thanks for your support and your reviews. While I shot down (wink wink) your Huerta theory, it could have tied in nicely as to why the old fart had to get a VI jammed into his head in 2185.

 _Causey_Trey_ \- I don't worry about the numbers but thank you for the sentiments. They'll be winning in the next story for Deckard. In more ways than just killing sentient beings. But with who? Bianka? Cami? Random asari's throwing themselves at a depression-prone human with a war story?

 _Seabo76_ \- Look at you calling how Bianka would treat Deckard! Kind a mind for my way of thinking. Thanks for your constant reviews as well!

Time to be a buccaneer everyone!


	17. Corsair Saga II: Buccaneer Sneak Peek

**I don't own Mass Effect**

* * *

Prologue 2: Purpose  
The Agent

 _02-12-2180  
_ _Undisclosed Ship, Undisclosed Location_

* * *

"This had better be a secure channel," the feminine voice barked out as the comms came to life.

"Of course it is! Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Reports from Arcturus Station speak to the possibility."

"I made my escape, to plan. The assassination took place, to plan. There was no stupidity from my actions."

"Agent Zelus, I know you went to see both of them."

"But the mission was a success."

" **Not** by my standards, it wasn't!" A fist could be heard slamming into the desk on the other end of the line.

"Well, it's not your standards that matter in the end, is it? Only matters what The Illusive Man thinks."

"A brazen statement, Zelus." There was a brief pause. "I'm sending your next assignment now. Don't mess this one up too. Stick to the mission parameters." The line was cut just as the data packet was received.

Dario Marmont leaned back in his seat on the ship he had liberated from Arcturus Station. The pilot was another operative, another cog, in the Cerberus machine. He couldn't understand what Agent Brooks was so upset about. The operation _had_ been a success. Cut down a member of the Huerta political dynasty and take out two of his top political allies. Everything had happened to plan.

Deckard Russell hadn't been to plan. But any friendly feelings Dario may have still harbored were squashed when he saw how much time he and Cami were spending together. It was a shame Gunther couldn't keep his old flame tied down and out of the picture. Just one more weak-willed casualty of the fight to make humanity stronger. Dario had seen to that man's disposal himself.

Dario opened the data packet and shook his head. The Illusive Man certainly knew how to turn the screws. But, this is why he joined with the organization. Cerberus knew how to get humanity to turn in the right direction. It took subterfuge, assassinations, and bribery but it also took finding the right people for the job. Dario was the right person for this operation.

He flicked through the data files to find out more on his target. A marine with an exemplary record. Medicated but no predisposition to narcotics. Furiously devoted to... _his wife_? Interesting. Seems Paulo Fraser was finally convinced to marry that piece of work. She probably threatened him enough times that he caved in to her demands. The Alliance was nice enough to station them both together. He heard Yamm was quite an exotic planet, hurricanes, temperature extremes, and toxic algae. Should be fun!

The mission was clear enough. He just hoped he had enough of that stupidly innocent charm left in him to play the fool again. He had lost his cover with Deckard but who could really have expected Deckard to be the target? He wouldn't lose himself in the moment with Paulo and Dee though. The mission was clear: Dupe and Recruit.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just another sneak peek in order to let everyone know (in case you weren't constantly checking the Mass Effect fan fiction stories, that you can find the new story by searching for The Corsair Saga II: The Buccaneer. Thank you everyone for the favorites and follows, don't forget to favorite, follow, and reply on the new story as well! TI


End file.
